At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
by ScribeofArda
Summary: 'The shadows seemed to pause together for a few moments. Any words were lost in the wind and the rain, if there were words in the first place anyway. In the next moment the shadows disappeared, and the wind and rain took their places once more.' AU, if Legolas was with Aragorn at the Prancing Pony in Bree.
1. Chapter 1

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter One**

 _Wow, it's been a while. For anyone who is still following all my stories (if you are, you're wonderful) I know I said this would be coming soon but uni life snowballed and I had no free time! I've just come on holiday for Easter and have managed to finally finish this story, so here it is!_

 _This actually came as a prompt from the lovely Celeblas of Mirkwood, and is another what-if scenario. The prompt was, essentially: what if Legolas was with Aragorn when he followed Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin to Bree and met them at the Prancing Pony? Or there abouts, I've changed it slightly to suit my writing, etc._

 _This is going to be an awful mixture of book and movie based, because I am lazy and cannot be bothered to really make it either- there's bits from the book I want to use, but I'm too lazy to dig through the books to write this, so it's mostly based around what I remember of the chapters in the book (e.g. Glorfindel, not Arwen, and the Nine never actually turning up in Bree) and what happens in the movies, and I shall dabble between them unashamedly. The chapters are going to be a bit shorter than usual, and will be spread out to about twice a week, Sundays and Wednesdays (if I remember...)_

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing._

0-o-0-o-0

The four small figures hurried down the road from the gate, the houses of Bree towering over them and looking down on the cloaked figures that were soaked through in the rain. They didn't bother to look back behind them at the gate they had just passed through to enter the town, the only thoughts on their minds being that of good food and a warm fire.

If they had chanced to look back for a brief moment, they wouldn't have seen much besides the gate, and the flicker from the lamp in the small room next to it. The watchman sat in there, vigilant at least to the eyes of the hobbits, which were not accustomed to looking for danger or secrecy. Neither they, nor the watchman thinking of his wife and her cooking, would have seen the slightly darker shadow amongst shadows, the one that moved against the swaying of the trees in the wind.

The shadow moved quickly and quietly over the gate, dropping down to the other side in a crouch. It seemed to glance around, checking it had not been seen, before moving off to one side.

A soft whistle came from the dark, akin to a birdcall, and then a second shadow appeared. This one nimbly jumped over the gate, landing without a sound in a similar crouch before moving to the first shadow at one side. A flash of gold shot through the darkness before it was swiftly hidden behind a hood once more, and the shadows seemed to pause together for a few moments. Any words were lost in the wind and the rain, if there were words in the first place anyway.

In the next moment the shadows disappeared, and the wind and rain took their places once more.

0-o-0-o-0

Aragorn ducked through the door, rain dripping off his hood as he cast a wary glance around the inn. The Prancing Pony was nearly full and the noise of drunk men filled his ears. He ignored it, save for an unseen glare or two from under his hood, and came in out of the rain.

Barliman was there, pouring ale, and Aragorn pushed past the loud grating men to reach the bar. One man, gesturing loudly to friends, he moved past perhaps not as gently as he could have, and the man turned with angry words already spilling from his lips. Aragorn looked at him, reaching up with one hand to flip back his hood.

The words died on the man's lips as he saw the figure in front of him, cloaked and grim and deadly. He turned away without another word. Aragorn, with a slight smile that he quickly hid, turned back to the bar.

"Barliman," he said in a low voice, leaning on the wood. Barliman jumped, and then turned to him quickly.

"Strider," he said nervously. "You haven't been around here for a while."

"I've been busy," Aragorn replied. A man tried to butt in to get Barliman's attention, leaning over the bar and shouting drunkenly. Aragorn held up one hand, looking over his shoulder at the man, and he slunk away. He turned back to Barliman.

"Has Gandalf come through here?" he asked.

Barliman shook his head. "Haven't seen him for months," he replied, shifting slightly. Aragorn's gaze narrowed.

"Barliman," he said warningly. "Have you heard anything?"

"No, nothing much," Barliman said, seeming to tame his face. "News has been bad around here lately, but I'm sure you know all about that." He framed it a little as a question, and Aragorn inclined his head in response. "You want your usual, Strider?"

"If you're not busy," Aragorn replied smoothly, knowing full well that Barliman was busy and would drop most of it to get him what he wanted. After spending so long in the wilds, not able to sleep more than a few hours at a time in case there was something chasing him down, he didn't mind using his reputation this once to get some decent food and ale quickly enough.

With a nod at Barliman he moved into the main room, heading around the edges of the crowd to a shadowed table in the corner as he pulled his hood back up. The space around the table emptied quickly once he sat down there. He saw the askance looks he got from some people, heard the whispers between them, but he was used to it by now.

He didn't mind. They were whispers of unimportant, scared people, and they could do him no harm. Especially considering the company he had tonight.

He had to wait a few minutes, during which Barliman put a tankard of ale down in front of him and he got a few more unfriendly stares. Finally, there was a slight scrape against the window he was sitting next to, the sound of a steel blade gently run against glass. Aragorn, without his gaze moving from the room, reached back and pushed the window open a crack. He busied himself with lighting his pipe, pulling tobacco from his pouch.

"You're hidden well enough?" he said under his breath. There was a brief pause, and then a muted laugh from outside the window.

"I know how to hide myself," came the quiet reply. "To anyone looking, I am merely someone who has had too much to drink and is trying to keep out of the rain."

"Don't get noticed," Aragorn murmured, bowing his head to his pipe. "These people won't take kindly to you. You'll scare them, and they are angered easily."

"I know what men who do not understand my kind can be like," the voice said. "You think everyone in Dale, in Esgaroth, likes our presence? And that is not even mentioning the hunters and woodmen that are on the edges of our woods. But they do not like you, either. I heard some of the men talking outside the entrance. I didn't realise you'd taken on yet another name."

"I don't take them on," Aragorn replied, pulling at his pipe. "They are given to me by men who want to keep as far away as they can. Which one is this?"

"Longshanks," came the answer in an amused voice. Aragorn refrained from rolling his eyes as the person outside continued. "They are not very imaginative."

"I know," he murmured. His gaze passed over the room once more, watching and making a note of everyone there, anything that could become a threat. There was a brief silence.

"They are scared of you."

"I know," Aragorn repeated. "They don't like what they don't know. And when it comes to me, they don't know anything at all. For some, it turns to hatred. It's easier to deal with than admitting you are wrong, or don't know enough."

There came another muted laugh. "If I wanted a lesson on how a man thinks, I would have stayed at Imladris."

"Why are you here, then?" asked Aragorn, leaning back slightly. He knew that he'd disappeared to most of the men in the room, though the one man by the bar, the friend of Bill Ferny, he was still keeping an eye on. "I was a little preoccupied to ask you earlier." He had found him just as he had tailed the hobbits to the gates of Bree, and there had hardly been time for a conversation.

"I bear news from my father," came the answer. "That can wait, though, until we are in a safer setting, and less distracted. Mithrandir will want to hear it, and your father as well. But when I arrived in Imladris I was told you would be in this area, dealing with something important. I had some time. I thought you might want some help."

"And I'm glad for it," Aragorn replied. "But you are putting yourself in danger. And I cannot tell you why."

"I'm always in danger," the voice replied, a slight tone of amusement in the murmured words. "It's refreshing for it to happen outside of my woods. And I know you cannot tell me. Lord Elrond said as much. I don't mind." His voice sounded, to Aragorn, like he was rather used to not knowing the whole picture, and was content to follow what orders there were to follow.

There was movement by the entrance to the main room of the inn, and Aragorn looked up from underneath his hood to see the hobbits enter the room. They took one of the tables in the middle of the room, and soon began to talk with the others in the room. Frodo looked nervous, though, fingering his pocket and staying quiet for the most part. Gandalf was not here, and even Aragorn was concerned about the wizard's absence. Frodo must be worried.

He would introduce himself later. For now, Aragorn just sat still and watched.

"The halflings are in the room," he murmured under his breath, watching as Frodo spoke to Barliman. The hobbit looked over in the corner and saw Aragorn, or Strider, and looked even more worried.

"Understood," came the reply. "Will they do anything unpredictable?"

"They shouldn't," replied Aragorn, lowering his head even more as Frodo glanced again at him. He was glad that elven ears could pick up the merest whisper at these distances. "Only one of them really realises what might be going on. He looks worried. One of them might be a bit of trouble. He seems…lively." He studied them once more.

"Where are they in the room? What's between them and the door?"

Aragorn huffed a smile, hidden in shadows and behind his hood. He should have expected him to turn to strategy soon enough, planning for worst-case scenarios. "They're roughly fifteen yards from the entrance to the room. Come through the front door, immediately on the left. They're between the door and me. Group of large men gathered around the bar between them. But these windows open both ways."

There was a soft laugh. "Understood," it said again. "Who is the priority?"

"You are not here with the express purpose of keeping me safe?" asked Aragorn under his breath. There came a soft laugh, and in the shadows he grinned before answering. "The dark-haired one, called Frodo. You'll know him apart from the others when you see him. There's something of Bilbo about him."

"Ah, so Bilbo is still causing trouble?" the voice asked, sounding amused. "I haven't seen him in a long-"

The voice broke off abruptly. Aragorn immediately checked the four hobbits in front of him. Frodo was still quiet, but the other three were getting louder, especially the one he had heard being called Pippin, talking animatedly with the other men and hobbits in the tavern.

"What is it?" he hissed under his breath, hand straying towards the knife at his belt.

"Something's not quite right," came the answer. "There's nothing immediately wrong, but there is something just on the edge..." The voice trailed off and Aragorn leant back slightly, trying to listen for movement he knew he would not be able to hear. "I'm going to go and look," came the voice after a few moments. "I'll find you before dawn. If not, just leave and I will catch up."

"Good hunting," Aragorn murmured. The presence on the other side of the wall suddenly vanished. Aragorn watched the crowd in the room intently, and waited for it all to go wrong.

 _Hope everyone is doing well and having a good time! If you've been with me for a while now, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. You have no idea how much it means to see people popping back up, again and again, story after story. If you're new, then welcome! I hope you stick around and read some of my other works! (Please don't judge the earlier works too harshly, my writing has evolved a lot since then!)_

 _As always, reviews are very welcome!_


	2. Chapter 2

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Two**

 _Hey look at this, I remembered to post the next chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who responded so positively to the first chapter, I'm so happy to see some familiar faces (urls, but you know what I mean) still with me after such a long break._

 _This story is about 26k, so is looking to fall out at around 10 chapters, maybe a little more depending on how I cut things. I have a oneshot in the works that I started today, so hopefully won't take too long to write (depending on uni and exams and horses and Life in general) that's about Faramir and Aragorn and Thranduil and them being fathers- I don't know what inspired me to write this, I was watching RotK and decided I missed writing Faramir. And then of course Aragorn had to be in it, and then Thranduil, and I'm sure Legolas will turn up at some point. I haven't quite finalised the plot of it yet- what plot there is, it's not going to be that long._

 _Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's slightly longer than usual, because I couldn't really cut the final scene in half without giving you a really short chapter (also, I know it's shorter than my usual long stories anyway, but I'm deliberately keeping the chapters shorter so I have a longer publishing time). Hope you enjoy!_

 _0-o-0-o-0_

"Get in and keep quiet."

Aragorn shut the door behind the four hobbits quietly, making sure nobody had followed them or was watching. The door came to with a quiet click, and he listened for a moment for the sound of footsteps. There was nothing, other than an eerie silence that had spread over what seemed like the entire inn.

He turned to face the four hobbits. "That was a very foolish thing, Master Baggins," he said in a low voice. "A very foolish thing indeed. I trust the rest of you know what is going on?"

"Aye, we know that," one of them- Sam, Aragorn thought his name was- replied angrily. "What we don't know is who you are, and what you have to do with any of this. You could be an agent of the enemy, for all we know!"

Aragorn studied him for a few moments. "If I was an agent of the enemy," he said quietly. "I would have killed you all the moment you walked into this town, and taken the thing in your pocket, Master Baggins. I could take it now, if I wanted to. It would be easy!" His voice rose and he stepped forwards towards them, suddenly looking to the hobbits fey and wild, and dangerous.

The hobbits stepped back, looking afraid, and Aragorn sighed. In the next moment he was a weary Ranger once more. "But I am not an agent of the enemy," he said. "I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey, and I am here to get you safely to Rivendell."

"You are?" said the youngest of them, sounding like this was a fun adventure more than anything else. "Great, are we leaving now?"

Aragorn frowned. "Do you have any idea of what is following you?" he asked. "How many people would hunt you for that _thing_ if they knew you had it? Already your stunt tonight has left many people curious. Word will spread."

"So we _are_ leaving tonight?" asked the youngest one again.

"No," Aragorn said shortly. "You are staying in this room tonight. We'll leave early in the dawn, and I will take you on the safest paths to Rivendell." He crossed over to the door. "I will fetch your bags from your rooms. Do not leave. Do not let anyone in. If someone knocks on the door, remain silent and do not answer. No matter who they may sound like. Understood?"

Frodo nodded. "I'll make sure we're quiet," he said. The other hobbit who stayed closest to Frodo bristled angrily.

"How do we know we can trust you?" he asked. "We have no idea who you are."

"Sam," Frodo said softly, holding out one hand, but Aragorn shook his head.

"You are right to be distrustful, Sam," he said. "But I can prove it." He turned to Frodo. "All that is gold does not glitter," he said softly. "Not all those who wander are lost. Do you believe me now?"

Frodo blinked in surprise, and then nodded. The two others protested, but Frodo shushed him. "It's alright, Merry," he said. "Pippin, be quiet. Those are the first two lines of a poem in my letter from Gandalf."

"He might have read the letter!" exclaimed Merry. "I'm with Sam on this one. How do we know he can be trusted?"

"If I'd read the letter, the wax would have been tampered with," Aragorn said wearily. "My name is Aragorn. I am not impersonating the real Aragorn, though I know that someone impersonating the real Aragorn would also say that, so there's not much point to saying it. But I am a Ranger, dedicated to the protection of this world, and more besides." He nodded at Frodo. "That poem is about me," he said. "From the ashes a fire shall be woken. We shall need fire, by the end of this."

"If you do not trust me, you will die in the next few days, and then everything will fall into ruin and we will lose, all of us. If you trust me, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, away from those things hunting you, and get you to Rivendell." He looked at each of them in turn, before sighing. "I'm going to go get your bags. Stay in this room. You at least, Frodo, have some idea of what is hunting you. You should be afraid."

With those words he left, shutting the door firmly behind them. There was a moment of silence, and then Merry, Sam and Pippin all tried to speak at once.

"He's not-"

"But how can we-"

"Frodo, what are we going to do?"

Frodo sighed. "We don't have much choice," he said. "I don't think we could make it to Rivendell on our own. We will go with Strider, with this Aragorn, and he will get us there, if you all agree." He studied the closed door, as if he could still see the man who had left. "I think he is worth trusting."

"I think we're out of our depth," said Pippin. "But we'll go with him, if that's what you think, Frodo."

"I do," replied Frodo, and unconsciously his hand drifted to his pocket, and the now familiar weight of the ring inside.

0-o-0-o-0

Aragorn pushed his way through the door of the room abruptly, bags slung over his shoulders. The four hobbits looked up from where they had taken seats on the bed. "This is everything that was in your rooms," Aragorn said, shutting the door and turning the lock. "Barliman is curious, but he knows not to talk. The rest of the inn is still murmuring about your little stunt, Master Baggins, but it has died down and only the troublesome ones are really talking."

Frodo nodded. "Our thanks are probably due," he said.

Aragorn huffed. "You'll have a lot more to thank me for once we get through this," he said. He stalked over to the window and glanced out of it before pulling it shut. "It is late, and we have a long way to go tomorrow. Get whatever rest you can, wherever you can."

Merry and Pippin went for the bags at the foot of the bed, delving in to find clothes to sleep in. Aragorn tried not to roll his eyes.

"Gentlemen," he said exasperatedly. The hobbits stopped and looked up at him, Frodo and Sam from where they were still sat against the headboard. "We may have to leave at a moment's notice," Aragorn said. "And you will certainly not have time to change. Sleep in your clothes and keep all of your bags packed."

It was an order, nothing less, and Merry and Pippin slowly sat back, words dying on their lips as they began to realise that this was serious. Aragorn nodded, and turned back to look out of the window. Behind him the four hobbits made the best of the one large bed in the room, and though there was some hushed squabbling between them, it was sorted out fairly quickly.

"Aren't you going to sleep, Strider?"

Aragorn turned to look at Frodo, who had spoken. He was sitting up against the headboard still and, from the pale face and worried gaze, Aragorn guessed that Frodo, out of all of them, realised the seriousness of the situation they were now all in.

"I will keep watch," Aragorn said, softening his voice slightly. "I have kept watch all night many times before, and it is no difficulty. Get some sleep, and keep that thing safe."

Frodo nearly seemed to flinch. "How do you know about that?" he asked. "How could you?"

"Gandalf," Aragorn replied shortly. "I am not here by chance. I have been waiting for you to turn up, on instruction from Gandalf. He has told me most of whatever this is. The rest, I have figured out for myself." He sat on the edge of the chair by the window, pulling his cloak around him. "Go to sleep."

Frodo stared at him for a little longer, but slid down onto the bed and rolled over before long. The room was near silent. After a while Aragorn busied himself with the fire, and then paced the room quietly, checking the door and window, wondering if he could get the hobbits out of the window if needed. It wasn't that far a drop. They were only on the second floor and a broken bone could be fixed. Being stabbed, that was much more difficult.

He glanced out of the window once more, hoping to see a familiar hooded figure below, but there was nothing. There was a sense of dread settling at the edges of his mind, a warning of things perhaps to come. He knew the Ringwraiths were following Frodo. He knew all nine of them were close, but not yet in Bree. If he could get Frodo and the other three out before they arrived, then they might yet stand a chance at getting to Imladris.

He watched at the window for a long time into the night, waiting for dawn. He had done this many times, this long dull wait, and was accustomed to how to let his mind wander whilst paying attention to everything around them.

He wondered whether Elladan and Elrohir were in Imladris. It was unlikely, but they could arrive back from wherever they were out hunting soon enough. They would know that important things were taking place, and would hopefully try and make it back for these events.

It had been too long since he was last in the Hidden Valley, he thought, and not without a pang of wistfulness for times long since past. It seemed that he barely had the time to do anything, anymore. He'd already become probably the most absent Chieftain the Dunedain had ever seen, given how often Gandalf gave him some duty or another, or his brothers did, or how often he himself carried himself off to far away places.

No, he had not been home in too long a time. A small smile came unbidden across his face as he thought of it.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when there was a slight noise, right on the edge of Aragorn's hearing. He stood, slowly, and reached for the knife at his belt. This was an inn, with many other people in it, but it paid to be cautious. Aragorn slid the knife from its sheath and walked silently to the door. He had already learnt the quietest way to cross the room, which floorboards would creak under his feet, and he did not think he had made a sound audible to human ears.

Elven ears, well, they were another matter entirely.

A soft noise came from outside the door once again, and then Aragorn looked down as he saw the handle of the door dip slightly under pressure. A few moments of silence, and then there were the soft scrapes of someone at the lock.

Aragorn let out a breath, and abruptly the sounds disappeared. Aragorn frowned. "Legolas," he whispered under his breath, so soft that no human ears would hear it on the other side of the door. He slipped easily into Sindarin. "Is that you?"

"Estel," he heard murmured through the door, and he sagged in relief. Quickly Aragorn unlocked the door, opened it and pulled the hooded figure in before shutting the door once more. He was glad that the hobbits were heavy sleepers.

"Quiet," he murmured as Legolas stepped further into the room. "They don't know you exist."

"They won't," Legolas breathed in reply. The two of them moved over to the far corner of the room, as close to the crackling fire as they could get, and Aragorn put on another log to make the sound of it louder, and them less likely to be heard.

"What was that?" he asked. "Why did you suddenly leave?"

"You have riders on your tail," Legolas whispered. "They're not here yet, but I can tell they're close." Aragorn frowned, noticing the slight paleness to the elf's face, the worry he could see there.

"If they find you…" he began, but Legolas waved one hand.

"They won't," he replied. "But you need to leave as soon as you can in the morning. Get these four halflings out of here and to Imladris, and as much distance between the riders and yourself as you can."

"There's only so far I can get," Aragorn murmured. "They have horses. I cannot take the hobbits on the main road, so we'll have to cut across the country towards Weathertop-" Legolas blinked, looking blank, and Aragorn grimaced slightly. "Amon Sul," he said instead. "And then turn towards Imladris from that way."

"How long will that take you?" Legolas asked softly. "Two weeks?" At Aragorn's shrug he grimaced. "I cannot keep nine riders off your back for two weeks," he said. "They'll tire of the chase far long before that." He didn't mention the far more obvious reason, that one elf was no match at all against the Nine and would easily be overpowered.

Aragorn momentarily looked taken aback, and then shook his head. "You won't be keeping them off our backs at all!" he hissed. "You cannot."

"Estel," Legolas said softly. "Whatever is happening here, and I know you cannot tell me most of it, it is far more important than myself. There is a power in this room, something far beyond what I have ever felt before."

Aragorn's eyes darted to the bed, where the hobbits lay sleeping, and Legolas nodded. "I thought so," he murmured. "I don't know what it is, but I can guess. And if I am correct, then those halflings have to get to Imladris. You can get them there. I know you can. But I will do everything I can to help."

Aragorn tried not to sigh too loudly. "Stay close to us when we leave, if you can. I'd rather have you nearby. How far away do you think they are?"

Legolas frowned. "It is really hard to tell," he replied softly. "You have to remember all my experience comes from the darkest corners of my home, where the woods have been saturated for centuries. The shadows here are constantly moving. But they're less than a day out, I think." He let out a frustrated hiss. "Too many people in the way here to tell. Too many buildings. I'll be able to feel it clearer once we are out in the wilds."

Aragorn nodded. "Can you stay hidden until dawn?" he said. "Or better yet, can you get out of the town? We'll leave by the main road, but as soon as it curves we will turn north and get off the road."

"Estel," Legolas said with a grin. "Of course I can get out of town. And I can meet you there. Openly, or not?"

Aragorn shrugged. "I think they will automatically trust an elf, especially if you reveal who you are. They don't know anything other than the vague tales of your kind. Even Frodo, who is an elf-friend in his own right, does not know you to be anything other than good. But they have still had a lot flung at them in the past day or so. Perhaps a wood elf is too much for the moment."

"I will stay out of sight, then, until necessary," said Legolas softly. He glanced out of the window. "I'd better get going. I've been out scouting since I could first tell they were close, earlier this evening." For the first time Aragorn took in his slightly dishevelled appearance, muddy boots and the torn hem of his cloak. He nodded.

"We'll be leaving at dawn," he said. It was too dangerous for them to have tried to move in the night, too suspicious. Already they had stirred up Bree, and he didn't want to do anything more to add to that. "Make sure to give some sort of sign you are following. Your father will have my head if anything happens to you."

Legolas shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "He likes you, so he may just imprison you for the rest of your life." Aragorn laughed, a low soft chuckle muffled by the crackling of the fire.

"Good hunting," he said to Legolas as the elf moved to the window and quietly pushed it open. He knew the words were something of a saying in the Woodland Realm to those leaving to fight. There may not even be a fight coming, but the phrase felt right on his tongue, and Legolas smiled upon hearing it.

Aragorn sighed, and then briefly pulled the elf into an embrace. "It's been far too long," he muttered against his shoulder. "Be careful." Legolas wrapped one arm around his back, one hand still on the window.

"Of course," he said, pulling back and perching on the window. He looked back over his shoulder, a smile on his pale face that was stark against the shadows. "When have I ever done anything else?"

With those words he dropped out of sight. Aragorn walked to the window and watched as he landed silently, the hooded figure quickly disappearing from his sight. With a sigh, he reached out and pulled the window shut once more.

There was a rustling from behind him, and he turned to see Frodo sitting up. "It is some way off dawn, Master Baggins," he said softly. "You should sleep."

"I thought I heard voices," Frodo replied, rubbing at his face and looking around the room. Aragorn hid a wince. They obviously hadn't been as quiet as he had thought.

"Just myself," he said. "Planning our next moves. Apologies if I woke you."

Frodo shook his head, and his gaze went to the window. "Those riders following us," he said. "We ran into them on the road here, saw them from a distance. What are they?"

"The Nine," Aragorn replied, taking a seat in the chair by the window. "Ringwraiths. The Nazgul, the Black Riders, or the Ulairi in Quenya. They are servants of the enemy, men neither living nor dead and bound at all times to his will. They hunt the thing you have in your pocket, Master Baggins, and they will not stop until they get it for their master."

Frodo flinched a little, but less than he expected. Aragorn found himself revising his opinions on hobbits a little. He had heard all of Bilbo's stories, of course, and had immense respect for the old hobbit, but had not seen first-hand the courage that sat beneath their skin. It was not a courage he was overly familiar with, but it was there nonetheless.

"We're all in danger," Frodo said, his voice small but not wavering. Aragorn, seeing no reason to try and hide the truth, nodded.

"A lot of danger," he replied. "But I swear to you now, I will do everything in my power to get you and your friends to Rivendell." He didn't add that it would be at the expense of his life, if it came to it, because such a thing was a heavy weight for someone unaccustomed to it. But he knew how important this was.

Frodo nodded, and Aragorn turned his gaze back to the window and the night outside. "Get some more sleep," he said softly. "I'll wake you in the morning."

 _So the hobbits aren't going to find out about Legolas quite yet, I'm keeping hold of the suspense for a little while longer! Next chapter should go up on Sunday, hopefully I'll remember (if not, I'm sure someone will ask me where it is and I will put it up as soon as I realise!). As always, reviews are very welcome!_


	3. Chapter 3

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Three**

 _First of all, I'm sorry I didn't put this up yesterday! I was out with friends for a birthday and completely forgot about the chapter, and then went straight to bed once I got back (it didn't help that I'd been working at the yard all day and had gotten up at 6 in the morning to go into work). Anyway, sorry for that, and here's the chapter now._

 _In response to a couple of things people have said in reviews (thank you all so much, it means so much that you like my stories!) this isn't straying too far from canon. I'm actually pretty bad at writing AUs in the sense that the plot goes completely off the rails of canon and into new realms because I'm usually such a stickler for canon- anyone who's read In a Field of Blood and Stone can probably attest to that, because I spent waaaay too long making sure everything tied in with canon for that. So whilst this is AU, it's not wildly AU- the main events that happen in canon will still happen._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome!_

 _0-o-0-o-0_

They left at dawn, with the new addition of Bill, the haggard half-starved pony that Sam had taken a liking to. Aragorn wasn't too happy about it, because getting any horse through marshes was going to be a trial, but they needed something to carry the supplies and the hobbits were not strong enough to shoulder all of their bags. Besides, he had wanted to free that pony from Bill Ferny's cruel hold as much as Sam.

They turned off the main road as soon as they were clear of the town, Aragorn heading immediately north and into the wilds. This was not the countryside the hobbits knew. This was untamed moors and marshes, with no farmland in sight. Nobody had worked these lands for centuries.

Only a few furlongs away from the road and Aragorn suddenly had the sense they were being watched. They were in a copse, fir trees crowding around them, and he held up one hand as he came to a stop.

He'd forgotten the hobbits knew nothing of warfare and signals he used so easily with the people he normally travelled with. Frodo had the mind to stop, and grabbed Sam's arm, but Pippin kept walking past him. "What is it?" he asked in a loud voice.

Aragorn gritted his teeth. "This," he said, holding up his hand again. "Means stop and be quiet. Don't forget that. Now stop and be quiet. Wait here. I'm going on ahead." He turned back to look at Frodo. "I will be ten minutes, nothing more. I'm not going far at all."

Merry expressed some cry of dismay, but Aragorn turned away and walked off further into the copse.

He had only walked a few hundred yards, out of sight of the hobbits, when something small hit him in the back of the head. He stopped and turned around. A pinecone was lying just behind him. His gaze flickered over the canopy above him, but he could see nothing. He was hardly expecting to.

There was a light noise, and then Aragorn turned to see a hooded figure standing in front of him. He sighed. "Pinecones. Really?"

There came a soft laugh from beneath the hood and Legolas grinned slightly. "There is little else to hand in a tree," he replied. His face soon sobered, though, and he stepped forwards. "The riders have been dislodged, but they'll pick up your trail soon enough. There wasn't even any point in trying to lay false trails, so I didn't try. They're drawn to whatever that halfling holds."

Aragorn nodded. "Hopefully they'll have some difficulty getting through these places," he said. "They can barely move anywhere without their horses, according to Gandalf. We'll be in more trouble when we get to the flatter lands around Weathertop."

"Can you tell how close they are?" he asked. "Where they are?"

Legolas sighed, and shut his eyes. "I just… I don't know," he admitted. "Close, but not dangerously close. I think." He scrunched his face slightly with a grimace, opening his eyes. "This," he said, waving his hand at everything around them, "is unfamiliar and strange, and is messing with what little I can ask from the land. It hasn't felt the touch of an elf for a very long time." He went to run a hand through his hair before realising he had his hood up still.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could tell more."

"You don't think your only use is your elven senses?" asked Aragorn wryly. "You don't need to be sorry for anything. They'll catch up when they catch up, and I'll need your skills with a bow and knife then." He looked back towards where the hobbits were, the smile falling from his face. "They have no idea what they're walking into."

"Did we?" asked Legolas. "When we first started?" He smiled softly. "We walked into it nevertheless."

"They're not warriors," muttered Aragorn. "They bear swords, but they cannot fight. They cannot follow orders, especially the youngest one. Only a minute ago I held up a hand and he just walked straight past me." He sighed. "I miss people who knew what orders actually were. Ai, I miss hunting with you, rather than running with four hobbits who don't have any idea what they're doing."

Legolas shook his head. "They'll learn. We all did." He looked around them. "I should return to the shadows," he said. "I've been getting rid of your tracks as best as I can. There's no evidence where you left the road, unless the Nine can somehow track better than an elf."

Aragorn nodded. "And I should return before the hobbits begin to worry," he murmured. "We won't make much of a camp, but we'll stop at nightfall. I'll see you then."

"I'll be there," Legolas said with a smile. He turned to one of the trees and jumped up, grabbing a branch and swinging there for a moment. Aragorn, despite himself, smiled at him, and then the elf pulled himself up and soon disappeared.

Aragorn watched the canopy above him for a moment, before turning back to the hobbits who were looking decidedly nervous and had grouped around their pony. "What is it?" asked Merry. "What's there?"

"Nothing," Aragorn replied. "For now, we're safe enough. Keep moving." He strode off, not waiting for the hobbits to sort themselves out, and looked up into the canopy in time to catch a flash of green moving against the sway of the trees.

0-o-0-o-0

They stopped for the first night in a small hollow set in the land, nearly invisible from any point beyond it. Aragorn pushed back one of the thickets and waited. After a few moments, Merry seemed to get that he expected them to go down into the now revealed hollow and did so, the others following. Sam came in last, leading Bill behind him.

Aragorn paused at the top of the hollow, and then pulled out a knife. In the trunk of the tree next to him he scratched a few lines and then whistled out a birdcall. He waited for a moment, listening carefully, and then heard an answering call from somewhere above him. Satisfied, he pushed his way down into the hollow below.

"Are we lighting a fire?" asked Merry as they pulled bags from Bill and put them on the ground. Aragorn glanced up at the sky overhead, and shook his head.

"Too noticeable at the moment," he replied. "We'll have to do without. Dig out what blankets you can, and put most of them between yourselves and the ground. It will keep you warmer than piling them on top of you." He walked over to Bill, undoing one of the straps and pulling off a bag containing food. "Eat sparingly," he warned them as he threw the bag over to the four hobbits. "I don't know how long we're going to be out in the wilds."

"We can set traps," Pippin said as he pulled the bag of food towards them and began to rifle through it. "Merry and I have done it before."

"If we have the time," Aragorn replied with a faint smile. "For now, just make do with what you have there. We're safe enough for tonight. Horses can't easily get through these parts, and we're well hidden."

He turned back to Bill and began to unload the pony, slinging the bags down to one side and tethering Bill at one edge of the hollow. The pony immediately went for the grass under his feet, and Aragorn felt a stab of anger at the sight of his ribs and matted coat. He was glad Legolas hadn't seen him, and that they were too far from Bree to return now. If the elf had seen the state of Bill earlier, Aragorn was sure Bill Ferny would be cowering in his house from fear of the wrath of the elves.

The hobbits seemed to have grasped the seriousness of the situation, for they merely picked at their food before Sam got up and put it away again, spending a few minutes speaking softly to Bill as he did so. They sat in near silence as the dusk deepened, and once it was nearly dark they lay down swiftly enough. Aragorn, once again, sat watch on the edge of the hollow.

There were clouds scudding across the sky, but they were patchy and the moon shone through them. It was enough for Aragorn to make out silhouettes around him, and he could see the shapes of the four hobbits, lumps under blankets. Bill was grazing still to one side of them. He sighed softly, pulling out his pipe.

"Light that, and I will leave."

Aragorn jumped, nearly dropping his pipe. One hand went for the knife at his belt before he recognised the voice, and rolled his eyes. "You nearly got stabbed," he muttered. There came a soft laugh from somewhere above him.

"I don't think so," Legolas said softly. He dropped from the tree without a sound, coming to sit beside Aragorn. "How are they?"

Aragorn's gaze turned to the hobbits. He shook his head. "At the moment, I don't know. Gandalf has told me that it is very easy to underestimate them, but right now, I cannot see how."

"The smallest acts of kindness and courage can make a big difference," Legolas said, though it sounded like he didn't quite believe it. Aragorn huffed a laugh.

"A sword in a hand that knows how to use it is far more useful to me," he replied. "But Gandalf is usually right. Bilbo is certainly more than I could ever have suspected, and the dark haired one here, Frodo, is his nephew." He shrugged. "Maybe they will surprise me by the end of all of this. But I cannot see it at the moment."

"You've been spending too long in the wilds," Legolas said, after a moment's pause. Aragorn scoffed.

"You can talk," he said. "All you do is hunt orcs through some of the darkest places you can go in your home."

Legolas inclined his head. "And then I return home," he pointed out. "And I spend time somewhere I am safe enough to sleep through the night without worry. When was the last time you were in a place like that?"

Aragorn had to actually pause to think about it. Legolas looked pointedly at him, and he sighed. "I get your point," he muttered. "But we're heading to Imladris now, and hopefully I can rest there for a few days at least. If we get there."

"You said yourself that the Riders cannot get through here easily," Legolas said. "We're relatively safe until we get onto the flatter lands east. Then it will become a race of sorts, I think, but if anyone can outrun them, it will be you."

Aragorn ducked his head, a smile curling his lips. They spent the next while discussing strategy, anything they could do to throw the Riders off their trail and get the hobbits to Rivendell as quickly as possible.

"Do you think we should avoid Amon Sul?" Legolas asked, shifting into a more comfortable position against the tree. The hobbits slept on, oblivious.

Aragorn tilted his head. "It's obvious," he replied. "As a landmark, they would probably expect us to make for there. But then that is for a reason. It's easily defensible even for just the two of us, or one if seriously pressed. Besides, if Gandalf is on the road he will make for Weathertop, and we could meet him there."

"I don't like that he's not around," Legolas murmured. "Something this important, he should be here."

"I don't like it either," Aragorn said. "But there's nothing we can do. You said that you've seen no sign of him following. He knows we're heading for Imladris. He'll get there."

Legolas nodded. "I know," he murmured. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and looked around the camp. Aragorn saw the moment when his gaze fell on Bill, and he was able to reach out and grab Legolas' arm to stop him getting to his feet. "Legolas," he said warningly.

Legolas fought briefly against his grip. "Who did that?" he murmured, his voice eerily blank and even. Only someone who knew the elf would recognise that this was far worse than a shout.

"Legolas, stop being foolish," Aragorn replied, tugging on his arm. "It was a man called Bill Ferny, if you must know. We bought him in Bree. And it's far too late for you to turn back and go after him for mistreating a horse. There are more important things at the moment."

Legolas stilled. "You can let go," he said. "I'm not about to run back to Bree." Aragorn huffed a laugh, and moved his hand up to Legolas' shoulder.

"I knew you'd be annoyed by it," he said. "But it was the only horse we could find in time. Besides, he'll end up in Imladris and you know a week there will turn him into another horse." Legolas nodded, with a grateful smile at Aragorn. Aragorn made to say something else, but suddenly yawned, jaw cracking. Legolas' smile turned into a grin.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Aragorn shrugged. "Not sure," he said. At Legolas' disapproving look he huffed a low laugh. "Do not look at me like that. I know for a fact that you once went two weeks without sleeping at all. I have been sleeping, as much as I can in the wilds. I'm fine."

"Nevertheless," Legolas said. "I'll take watch for now. Go to sleep. I'll wake you before dawn."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. He settled down and pulled his cloak around him. Legolas grinned and then stood, jumping up silently to disappear in the tree above. Aragorn looked up to see him settling on a branch just above, nearly invisible in the dark. He set to work checking his arrows, and reassured by the familiar presence above him, Aragorn drifted off into sleep.

 _A bit of a filler chapter, but from what I remember from the books, it actually takes a good few weeks to get from Bree to Rivendell- I'm fairly sure from Weathertop to Rivendell is nearly two weeks (I could go look this up, but it's late and I'm feeling lazy). So there will be a couple of chapters here and there where it's more filler than action, but don't worry, there's still plenty of action._

 _Again, sorry about the lateness! Hope you all enjoy it- as always, reviews are very welcome._


	4. Chapter 4

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Four**

 _First of, I'd like to apologise for taking so long to update this story. I know it seems hypocritical of me, to say that I'll update twice a week and then for there to be over a week without any update, and I am sorry for that, but I didn't just forget, I've had good reasons._

 _Last week, my horse suddenly died. He hit a cross country fence at a competition and fell, and broke his leg. Unfortunately, with an injury like that, there's nothing any vet can do, and we had to put him to sleep immediately. Even now I'm still pretty distraught over it- typing this out is a good catharsis, but I'm still crying whilst writing this. He didn't suffer much, and I got to say goodbye to him at the end. The sport is a risky sport, and Tom truly loved what he was doing, though that's not much consolation to me at the moment. I'd had him for five years, and whilst we had nowhere reached our full potential together, we had an amazing run._

 _So this chapter is dedicated to my wonderful horse, Tom. Sorry for the long delay._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

The pale grey light woke them up in the morning, filtering in through the slowly baring branches around them. Frodo stretched and sat up to see Strider already up and packing. The smallest of fires burnt, smokeless, in the middle of the small hollow, with a skinned rabbit perched over it. As the others woke around Frodo, Strider flung the last few bags on the horse.

"Eat," he said, pointing at the rabbit. "Then we'll get moving." He seemed to have few words for them in the morning, and the hobbits moved towards the fire once he turned away from them again.

Frodo went for the rabbit first, pulling it off the spit with careful hands. He frowned at something, but then Merry jostled him with an easy smile, and he passed the rabbit over.

They set off in the grey light, clouds smothering the horizon until the lands blurred into smudges of browns and greens and greys smeared across the wilds around them. They walked, and did not much else. They did not stop until nightfall, and then only repeated what they'd done the previous night. Aragorn didn't say much, and the pervasive silence stretched from him to envelop the hobbits. Even Pippin said little, and spent most of his time watching the slowly changing landscape around them with apprehensive eyes.

The days wore on. One day they found themselves in marshland that suddenly sucked at their feet, where there had only recently been dry land, and then it was a dreary struggle through bogs to find the driest paths. By the end of the first day they were all soaked and miserable, and Bill the pony looked, if possible, more dejected than he had when they'd first found him.

Aragorn stalked through the marshes, finding the dry paths by instinct, as he'd been walking these paths for so long. Over his shoulder was a brace of assorted birds that he'd managed to shoot down. He could feel their feathers brushing against his neck, again and again with every step.

Sam looked up as he walked into their makeshift camp, and Aragorn handed him the birds to prepare to eat. They were risking a fire for the night, as Aragorn was fairly sure that the Ringwraiths could not make it into the marshes with their horses. Even if they could, he knew they'd have some sort of warning.

Legolas had left their trail at the beginning of the marshes, and was now, Aragorn hoped, working his way around the edges to the other side. If the Ringwraiths tried to enter the marshes, there was a good enough chance that Legolas would see them and be able to get some warning to them, somehow.

Maybe he was banking a little too much on Legolas, Aragorn thought unhappily. But then if the Ringwraiths found them, there was little he could do against them anyway. He huffed another sigh. Legolas was meant to meet them on the other side of the marshes, before they made for Weathertop. Whether or not that would happen, he had no idea.

Sam and Merry were busy plucking the birds that Aragorn had brought down. Pippin, sitting to one side and fiddling with a feather, looked up as Aragorn sighed. "How much further till we are out of the marshes?" he asked. "Any longer and the midges might decide we're too tasty to let go."

Aragorn huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly as his mind overlaid images of the marshes outside Mordor, the dead bodies lying there still, on the view around him. He'd had nightmares of that place for weeks once he'd gotten out and to a safe place.

"We've got another day of travel, if we stick to the path," he said to Pippin. "Then we're on flat land, and need to try and get to Weathertop as quickly as we can." He looked over at Frodo, who was fingering something in his pocket. "Then it's another week or two to Rivendell."

"What's it like? Rivendell, I mean. What is it like?"

Aragorn glanced at Sam, who had briefly paused, feathers in his hand. For once his gaze didn't drop as Aragorn met it, and Aragorn smiled slightly. "I grew up there," he said, and instantly he had the attention of all four hobbits. This was the first personal information he'd volunteered since he'd given them his name.

"You did?" asked Merry, curious. "Why?"

Aragorn felt a brief flare of nostalgia, and relented with a small smile. "I was fostered there," he said. "My father was killed when I was two, in an orc raid. Those were dangerous times, and to repay a debt, my mother and I were taken in and allowed to live in Rivendell. Before long it became my home."

Pippin asked something, his wariness of Strider forgotten in the face of his curiosity, and then, for a little while, the night seemed less dark as half forgotten tales and the brief, innocent memories that only a child can have twisted their way through the still air and into the night.

0-o-0-o-0

Sighs of relief came from the hobbits when they finally reached the edges of the marshland and found dry land beneath their feet once more. From Strider's face, it looked like he was inclined to agree with them. Merry huffed in annoyance as he felt the squelch of his boots. It would take days for them to dry out without a fire, which they probably wouldn't be allowed tonight.

The day was slowly darkening, the Sun beginning to sink in the west, and the hobbits watched as Strider pulled his pack off his shoulder as they reached a small, dense copse of trees and straggling bushes. "We'll spend the night here," he said, dropping his pack to the ground.

The hobbits looked up at him, bewildered. "We still have a few hours before it's really dark," said Merry. "Surely we should keep going?"

They watched as Strider looked back at them. "The marshes are safe," he aid abruptly. "And we can retreat back into them if we need to." He bent down, and picked up his bow and quiver. "Stay here and set up a camp. No fires. I'll be back before nightfall or soon after."

Any protests that the hobbits made quickly died in the muted land around them, and Strider soon disappeared from their sight. Pippin sighed, and then began pulling bags off of Bill. "Where is he going?"

Frodo looked up. "You ask as if I know," he replied with a small smile. "I have no idea. But we don't have any other option but to do what he says, I think." He noticed the worried frown on Pippin's face, echoed more deeply in Sam's, and shrugged. "Maybe he's gone to check if the area is safe, or to find some game."

"Do you trust him?" Merry found himself asking. Frodo looked over at him, and his face was pale in the slowly dimming light.

"I want to," he said. "Like I said, I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler, and would have done something to us already. There's something about Strider that seems, well, right, I think." He smiled slightly, and accepted the blanket that Sam handed him. "Thank you, Sam, but make sure you have enough as well."

"I'm perfectly fine, Master Frodo," Sam replied, settling on the ground with a spare cloak underneath him. He reached for one of the bags of slowly dwindling food. "Do you need something to eat?"

Frodo shook his head. "I'm quite alright, Sam," he replied. "You eat some of it, before Pippin gets his hands on it and we run out." Pippin gaped at Frodo in mock outrage, and purposefully took a handful of nuts from the bag Sam offered him.

They sat in the small copse together until the light was fast dwindling, grey clouds darkening towards black as their quiet words fell flat on the night air. All of them jumped when Strider suddenly appeared once more out of the darkness, a bird in his hand and mud on his boots.

He said very little, allowing them only to start a very small fire before it truly got dark to cook the bird. Frodo watched him warily as he paced around the perimeter of their small camp. He seemed tense, eyes jumping around the darkening expanse surrounding them, as if waiting for something to happen. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and Frodo felt himself reach out for his own little blade that they'd gotten from the Barrow-wights. He wondered whether Strider felt any reassurance from the weight of his sword at his side. He himself felt nothing but worry, and the oddly heavy weight of the Ring in his pocket.

Strider disappeared briefly throughout the evening, stalking off into the dusk to return in a few minutes, hand tapping restlessly on the hilt of his sword and jaw clenched. The four of them all noticed to varying degrees, with Sam and Merry both exchanging worried glances, and even Pippin quieting further. Frodo watched Strider with a frown furrowing his brow.

Eventually, Merry curled up on a few blankets and went to sleep. Pippin lay down next to him, and then Sam as well, until it was only Frodo still awake. He watched Strider pace for a few moments.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Strider stopped, and turned to him. "Nothing," he said quickly. "Other than the obvious." He looked around them, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"You're worried."

Strider stilled, and then dropped his head. "There is a lot at stake, Master Baggins," he said quietly. "You perhaps do not realise it, but that thing in your pocket…" He trailed off, eyes flickering from Frodo off into the faded distance. "Everything hangs on that," he murmured. "Everything."

Frodo looked up at him with widening eyes. His hand unconsciously slipped to his pocket, and from the looks of it, Strider didn't miss the movement. "I'm just a hobbit," he said softly. "I don't know what to do."

Strider seemed to soften, for a moment. "That is why I am here," he replied. His gaze drifted past Frodo and back to the darkening plains around them, the blurred shapes of trees and bushes just visible in the half-light of dusk. "Get some sleep," he said, not unkindly. "I'll be around the entire night, if not always right here. We'll be safe enough for tonight."

Frodo rather doubted it, but he nodded and slid down onto the blankets beneath him anyway. Sleep was elusive, however, and for a while he listened to the soft sound of Strider pacing around the camp. There came the occasional murmur from Strider, seemingly muttering to himself in what sounded like Elvish. It was too low for Frodo to hear anything of, but he sounded worried, and angry.

It was fully dark when Strider suddenly cursed under his breath in Elvish, and there was the muffled sound of packs being shifted. Frodo rolled over just in time to see Strider stalk off into the darkness, bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. The pale light from the moon illuminated him for a few moments, before he disappeared into the darkness that reached out to envelop him.

Frodo shivered, though he had enough blankets to be warm enough, and sat further up to watch the night until Strider returned.

0-o-0-o-0

Aragorn felt like hitting something.

They were on the other side of the marshes now, and the danger they were all in had just increased because of it. Weathertop, which Aragorn knew they had to make to, if they had any chance of defence against the Nazgul, was still a few days away. And they had to move across open plains, for the most part, which would make them sitting targets for the Nazgul on their horses.

And as well as that, as well as everything that was hanging in the balance in this desperate race, Legolas hadn't met him yet.

He was meant to be on the edge of the marshes by now. Aragorn knew that there were many reasons why he might be late, ones that would have him still whole and unhurt, but he couldn't help the gnawing worry that something had happened to him, alone in unfamiliar lands. He couldn't have that on his conscience.

He knew, of course, that Legolas could handle himself perfectly well against any manner of orcs, but they were not up against orcs now. They were being hunted by Nazgul. Nobody could stand against them; nobody had ever done so before. And even though they were chasing a far larger prize, Aragorn was sure they would not hesitate to kill Legolas if they caught him. Or worse, if they worked out who he was and how valuable the information he knew would be to them and their master.

Aragorn cursed again, and gave into the urge to slam his hand into the nearest tree trunk. He leant against it, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. The bark was splintering underneath his hand, curling away from the thin trunk of the birch and falling down to the cold ground, surrounding his feet in pale flakes that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

He stayed there for a minute or so, giving himself a few moments to just step away from everything, the constant watchfulness and the hundreds of plans and counter-plans and contingency ideas all going through his head. For a minute, maybe less, his mind was quiet, filled only with well-known worry for Legolas.

He snorted softly in amusement. It said something about his life, when the gnawing worry for those he loved felt normal.

Eventually he straightened from the tree, and began to pace around the impromptu camp, weaving through the tangled undergrowth and trees. He was alert, as always, filtering through the sounds of the night to try and catch anything that was different, out of place.

There came something, on the edge of his hearing. Aragorn paused, setting an arrow to his quiver and slowly turning around. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but instantly he was on edge. He raised the bow slowly, turning on one heel, trying to listen to whatever he couldn't really hear.

There was the muffled sound of movement, and Aragorn tried to watch all of the shadows around him at once. The arrowhead was unwavering as he raised it further, the string of the bow taut by his ear.

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't shoot me."

Aragorn bit back a curse as he lowered his bow. "Legolas."

A shadow detached itself from the others and came forwards, until it was a cloaked figure. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. "You're late."

"Apologies," Legolas said, pushing back the cloak of his hood. The pale moonlight seemed to make his hair glow, but despite it he looked tired. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

Aragorn huffed the barest of laughs. "Where have you been?" he asked. He took in his friend properly, noticing the ragged cloak and mud-spattered boots. "What happened?"

They began to walk back in towards the makeshift camp, Legolas leaning slightly on Aragorn in his weariness. "You have five Riders on your tail," he murmured. "Where the other four are, I can't tell. Maybe ahead of us, but then I don't think-"

Aragorn held up a hand. "Wait a second," he said. "Start from the beginning."

 _I will endeavour to update with the next chapter sometime early next week, or on the weekend, but I can't promise anything- things are still a bit chaotic at the moment. I do, however, promise to not leave the story unfinished. As always, reviews are very welcome._


	5. Chapter 5

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Five**

 _Here's a new chapter for everyone! Thank you so much for all your kind words about my horse- things are a little better now, but I'm starting exams next week whilst trying to search for a new horse, and ugh it's so stressful. On the plus side the university brought a petting zoo to campus today and they had a Shetland pony (think small fluffy pony, the cutest you can imagine) and that helped a lot!_

 _I'm aware some people may be expecting some massive reveal this chapter with where Legolas has been- sorry, that doesn't happen. Obviously he was somewhere doing something, but it's not anything that will result in a massive deviation from canon or anything. Hopefully you'll still enjoy this chapter!_

 _As always, reviews are very welcome._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Legolas leant, tired, against the tree he sat below. "How are they doing?" he asked, eyeing the four hobbits a little ways off from them. Frodo had fallen asleep, slumped against another tree. The others were mere silhouettes under their blankets, fast asleep.

Aragorn shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." He sighed. "But now comes the real chase. We have to make it to Weathertop. If we get there, perhaps we can hold out against them, have some sort of defence. If not, we're all dead."

Legolas looked over at him. "You don't think we'll outrun them." It wasn't a question.

"I don't think we have a chance," Aragorn replied. "Just the two of us, maybe. But these four?" He looked out at the hobbits. "We can't. They'll catch up to us sooner or later."

Legolas nodded. "I know," he said. "They travel fast." He'd already told Aragorn what he'd been doing: mainly, tracking the Riders around the edges of the marshland, trying to see where they were and where they were heading. He'd come a little close to them at times, but the Riders would never have turned to hunt him instead of their original quarry.

"What will we do once we reach Amon Sul- Weathertop?" Legolas asked, his voice a quiet murmur.

"If," replied Aragorn. "There's no guarantee we'll make it there."

"We will," Legolas said, and his voice contained that impossible quiet confidence, the tone that Aragorn had heard on occasion before. He'd been right before, but that was no guarantee for this time.

He ignored it, for now. They had more pressing concerns than Legolas' misguided faith in him. "Weathertop is easily defensible. We might be able to drive the Riders off with fire, or at least kill their horses so they can't move around as easily. Then we can make a run for Imladris. The Riders will be slowed down by the heavily wooded areas around the valley, and we might make it. Maybe."

Legolas inclined his head in a nod. "If anyone can get them there, it will be you," he said. "I'll do what I can to help. They might be distracted by me a little, enough to give you more of a chance."

Aragorn shook his head. "You're not giving yourself up for this," he replied. "I won't let that happen."

Legolas' expression, he could see in the moonlight, was fondly amused. "You don't have much of a choice," he said. "I've been fully prepared to die for the right reason for quite a while now. I'm pretty sure this here is good enough. Besides, you know you'd do the same."

Aragorn huffed. "That is definitely not the point here," he replied. "We're all going to get to Imladris." Legolas nodded, and even though Aragorn could tell he didn't agree, he didn't push it.

"I didn't try to leave any false trails," Legolas murmured, leaning his head back against the tree. "But I cleared up your tracks at this edge of the marshes and up to here. I'll keep doing that; make it harder for them to find you as you move off. They won't find you by your tracks."

Aragorn snorted in amusement. "If an elf of Mirkwood could not cover our tracks, then the world would have indeed come to ruin." Legolas huffed a laugh at that, but to Aragorn's ears, it sounded tired. He looked over at his friend.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked, remembering when Legolas had said the same thing to him, only a few days ago. It was a recurring thing between them, when they met like this.

Legolas shrugged. "A while," he replied. "I've slept a bit in the past few days, but I could hardly lie down and sleep through the night." Aragorn studied him more closely, noting the very beginnings of the signs of exhaustion in Legolas.

"Go to sleep," he said. "I've had enough sleep whilst in the marshes. I can keep watch for now."

It was a sign of how tired Legolas actually was that he didn't argue, and merely slid down until he was curled on the ground, cloak pulled around him. Aragorn shifted closer to him and Legolas pillowed his head on Aragorn's outstretched leg where he sat. Before long his breathing evened out as he fell into sleep. Aragorn huffed a laugh, and stayed very still for the rest of the night.

0-o-0-o-0

The hobbits woke to find Strider already up and a small fire going. There was another rabbit roasting over it. Frodo watched Strider with a worried frown, hand in his pocket.

They moved off before the Sun had fully risen, and Strider struck a fast pace across what gradually gave way into moorland. Weathertop was ahead of them now, stark against the grey skies. Strider didn't bother with misleading paths, with anything other than heading straight for Weathertop in the distance.

They walked for days, on their feet well into the night before finally falling asleep on the bare ground for a few hours before getting up again. Every time they woke Strider was there, sometimes a fire going with a rabbit or bird over it, sometimes with nothing but a stern look and a hand on the hilt of his sword. And every night he would disappear just as he thought they'd fallen asleep, his footsteps sometimes audible as he tramped the perimeter, low murmurs on his tongue.

It was late at night, or possibly early in the morning, when Frodo woke to muttered voices. He blinked away the last remains of sleep and rolled over, to see Strider sitting against a tree, murmuring softly to himself. The branches above him were shaking in the breeze.

Frodo got up, his legs stiff as he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Strider watched him, his expression unreadable, as Frodo sat down nearby.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked, voice soft. Strider blinked, on guard for the briefest of moments, and then seemed to purposefully rearrange his face, looking at Frodo with an amused expression.

"Myself," he replied. "There's hardly anyone else here."

Frodo watched him for a few seconds. "We have someone following us," he said softly. "Besides the Riders. And you know."

Strider looked over at him. "I'm not confirming anything," he said in a low voice, but there was a hint of a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Who is it?" Frodo asked, looking around them as if the person was right there. Strider huffed what could sound like a soft laugh, if it weren't for the pervasive dankness that had settled over them.

"A friend," he replied eventually. "You won't see him around, so don't bother looking. But he's covering our tracks, and we will have some warning if the Riders get close."

The branches above him shook in the breeze, and Frodo looked up at them. Strider followed his gaze, and a smile quirked his lips. "We'll be safer with him here," he said. "He knows how important it is to get the job done, the sacrifices that may be required in the end. He'll get you to Rivendell, if I cannot." Frodo shivered at the implications the words carried.

"I don't like this," he murmured, half to himself. Strider looked over at him.

"Which part?" he asked. "The fact that we are running from our lives from possibly the most dangerous things to exist in this Age, the fact that you carry that thing in your pocket which could very literally bring about the end of the world, or the fact that you don't know who my friend is?" Frodo looked at him in surprise, and Strider barked out a short, gruff laugh.

"You may not like it," he said. "But you don't exactly have a choice."

Frodo watched him for a while, but the mirth faded from Strider's face as quickly as it had appeared, and his gaze became distant once more. Frodo, with a sigh, got up and padded lightly across the cold ground to his sleeping place.

He went back to an uneasy sleep, and dreams of cloaked figures stalked the edges of his mind.

0-o-0-o-0

Weathertop was towering above them, the final day of their approach. A cold seemed to leech from the stones there, and Frodo shivered as they walked into the shadow of the watchtower. Strider had told them a little of what the place used to be, but looking at it now, Frodo could only see ruins. He couldn't imagine Elendil standing there, waiting desperately for a sign of Gil-Galad's army approaching.

Strider led them up a twisted, winding path, his pace increasing as they got closer and closer to the top. The hobbits all but ran after him, Sam tugging Bill along until the pony was urged into a slow trot to keep up.

The top of Weathertop was a ring of tall stones, surrounding a courtyard of cracked and pitted flagstones. There were the remains of arches and columns dotted across the top, remnants of the watchtower it had once been.

Strider looked disappointed for a moment when they reached the top, and Frodo could tell why. Gandalf, whom they had hoped to be meeting here, was nowhere to be seen.

"Gandalf was here," Strider murmured. "Look at this." He was crouched in front of a small cairn of rocks. Frodo peered over his shoulder to see scratches on the rocks. "It could be nothing," Strider said. "But it looks like the elven letter G. This type of signing is used amongst the Rangers all the time. But if Gandalf was here, he must have left in a hurry. There's no signs of a fight, but I know Gandalf. If he isn't here, then he's been driven away."

"Is he in trouble?" Frodo asked. Strider grimaced.

"We all are," he replied. "Keep that thing in your pocket. Don't light a fire. I'm going to go and scout the area a little, make sure we're not about to be ambushed."

"What about your friend?" Frodo asked. For a brief moment, Strider looked worried.

"He's not here yet," he murmured. "But there's not much that will stop him from reaching us." It was left unspoken just what would stop him, but Frodo didn't bring it up. He just watched, his hand slipping almost without thought into his pocket, as Strider got up and stalked off into the steadily growing dusk.

0-o-0-o-0

Aragorn loosened his sword in its sheath as he stalked the path around Weathertop. Not for the first time, he wished that he had the senses of the Elves. He could barely see anything in the dark, especially not black horses carrying black riders. There was a pervasive feeling of dread slowly seeping into him as he patrolled, not least because Gandalf had been here, but had left abruptly, and Legolas had not turned up yet from the shadows.

Aragorn paused, and then dropped down to the ground, listening for the sound of hoofbeats drumming through the cold earth. He couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

He kept patrolling the area, spiralling out around Weathertop and then drawing back in. Occasionally he climbed back up to the top to check on the hobbits, but they were sitting still and quiet, huddled together in their cloaks.

It was fully dark, the only light from the thin sliver of moon and the stars above his head, when Aragorn found himself circling the base of Weathertop once again, one hand on the hilt of his sword. There was a slight rustling from nearby and Aragorn tensed, drawing back into the shadows and letting an inch of his blade rise silently from the scabbard.

Without any warning, there was an arrow pointed in his face.

"Estel," Legolas breathed, lowering his bow but not letting go of the arrow. Aragorn couldn't see his face in the darkness and the shadows of his hood, but all of his senses were screaming that something was wrong.

"There's five of them approaching," he said quickly. "I don't know where they are, but they're close. I don't know where the other four are."

Aragorn was frozen for a moment, and then cursed. "Get to the hobbits," he said. "Quickly." But he'd barely taken a step when there was an unearthly shriek echoing across the land, and Legolas openly flinched.

"They're here," he said, followed by a string of Silvan curses. "Fire, we need fire if we want to drive them off." He took off at a run for the path leading up to Weathertop, Aragorn on his heels. Above them, they could hear the sound of screams.

 _Okay, so that is a mildly evil cliffhanger. Sorry (though I'm not sorry, I'm actually quite glad the chapters fell out like that!). I know Aragorn is a bit sharp to Frodo at one point, but do not underestimate how much stress and an empty stomach can affect you, even someone like Aragorn. Believe me, you can cope for a few days, but after a while even the smallest of things can be immensely irritating, and it's very hard not to snap at people._

 _I don't quite know when the next chapter will be up, but I promise to finish this story! As always, reviews are very welcome._


	6. Chapter 6

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Six**

 _Ugh, it's been a while. Uni is slowly draining my will to live- I have my first exam tomorrow- and in between that I'm worrying over horses and everything, so it's a bit stressful at the moment! But here's another chapter, hope you enjoy!_

 _The hobbits finally find out about Legolas, and it's all starting to get rather tense. I'm trying to stick to the timeline of the book as much as possible, so it's a good week or so from Weathertop to the ford at Rivendell- there's plenty more to come._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Sam had never felt more useless.

They'd heard the shrieks, echoing across the watchtower and making Frodo double over, grasping at his head, but that was all the warning they got before black figures bled out of the shadows towards them, swords raised in hands. The small blade from the barrow-wights at Sam's side felt absolutely useless, but he drew it anyway.

Everything was a blur of shadows and confusion. One of the Black Riders flung him to the side and he slammed back into a ruined column. The blow to the back of his head was hard enough for his gaze to shake and dance in front of his eyes. He scrabbled for his small blade, barely aware of Merry next to him doing the same, and Pippin was shaking his head on the other side of the broken courtyard, struggling back up to his feet. He couldn't see Frodo.

That was the thought that propelled him back onto his feet, blade clutched in one hand and a wordless scream bursting through from his chest. He didn't quite know what he did, wasn't quite in control of it, but he saw a Rider raise its sword above an empty patch of stone and his legs carried him forwards without him having any say in it at all.

The next thing he knew, the Rider was on fire.

Sam staggered back as the Rider shrieked and flailed, flames licking at its robes. A bright light arced across the sky and then another Rider went up in flames. Sam heard a shout, and turned to see a figure leap up out of the shadows, a sword in one hand and in the other, a torch burning bright, cutting through the shadows of the darkness.

For a moment, Sam thought that he'd been transported back to the old tales he had been so very fond of. Strider's face was not Strider, but that of someone far older and more majestic, a legend from the ancient days of Elves and Kings. A Rider ran towards him; Strider strode forwards and then parried the blow, blade arcing round and gleaming red in the torchlight.

He didn't know how long it was before the last of the Riders fled, howling as flames danced around them, reaching ever higher up into their shadows. Strider paused, wreathed in firelight, and Sam gaped at him as he slowly lowered his sword.

A cut off gasp from behind them had Sam spinning to see Frodo, huddled against rubble. He sprinted to him, not even noticing his blade slipping from his fingers to clatter on the floor.

"Strider!" he shouted over his shoulder, falling to his knees beside Frodo. "Strider, help!"

Strider looked up, and then strode over, crouching down beside Frodo. He pulled back Frodo's tunic at the shoulder, and grimaced at the wound he saw there, black tendrils reaching out across his shoulder.

There was movement in the corner of his eye, and Sam turned just in time to see a cloaked figure crouched on top of one of the ruined columns. A warning shout had barely formed in his throat when the figure tensed, and then leapt off the column and onto the ground, straight towards them. Sam pushed in front of Frodo, Merry and Pippin joining him to shield Frodo from the stranger.

To his surprise, Strider just shook his head. "It's all right, Sam," he said wearily, holding back a hand. "He's a friend."

The cloaked figure reached up with one hand, and then pushed his hood back. Sam's eyes widened at the long blond hair and pointed ears now clearly visible.

"You're an elf!" he blurted out.

"This is Legolas," Strider said. He arched a brow at Legolas, a questioning look on his face. The elf just shrugged, and then shook his head. "He's been following us since Bree, trying to keep the Nazgul off our tail."

"You didn't do a very good job, then," Pippin snapped. He shrugged off Merry's cautionary hand on his arm, levelling him with a glare. "Strider, Frodo's hurt and he needs help. If you're an elf, then you can heal him, right?"

"It's a Morgul wound," Legolas said, shaking his head. "I can tell that from here. I can't do anything about a Morgul wound." He looked at Strider, who gritted his teeth and cursed.

"We won't move until the morning," he decided eventually. "Light a fire, and keep Frodo as warm as possible. I'll do what I can to help him now. We'll stay here tonight; it's more easily defensible than the moors below in the dark. In the morning, we'll make for Rivendell."

He moved over to Frodo and crouched down. "Merry, light a fire and boil water," he said over his shoulder. "Frodo, listen to me. Focus on me." He looked up briefly. "Legolas-"

"On it," Legolas said, heading to Strider's pack and digging through it. He pulled out an oilskin pouch and tossed it over, before picking his knife back up and stalking out towards the edge of the courtyard. He remained a shadowed figure at the edge, watching out across the moors.

Eventually, Strider had done all he could for Frodo, and had moved him as close to the fire Sam had started as was safe. When Sam finally looked up, he realised that the shadowy figure was no longer there.

"He's scouting around the base for signs that the Nazgul did indeed flee," Strider said, seeing Sam looking around. "He'll be back soon, and we'll all leave before first light. It's probably safer if we move together now."

"Who is he?" Merry asked.

Strider, for a moment, looked weary. "One of the Silvan elves from Mirkwood," he said eventually. "He's one of their best soldiers, though he won't admit it. You couldn't ask for a better person to have your backs, in a time like this."

"You flatterer," came a soft voice out of the darkness. The hobbits jumped as a shadow detached itself from darker shadows and then Legolas appeared, coming to sit down beside Strider.

"They've gone," he said. "They weren't expecting quite so much resistance, from us or from the halflings. They won't be gone for long, but we have a chance to make it to Imladris- Rivendell," he clarified, upon seeing Pippin frown in confusion.

"What would be your strategy?" Strider asked. Legolas just shrugged.

"I would go as fast as I could in a straight line to Rivendell," he answered. "If I had more elves, I'd leave some to distract the Nine as much as they could. There's no point in delaying the journey in any way at all. But I don't know the terrain. Where would be more difficult for the horses to get through?"

"It's two days of moors before we can lose them in the thick woods around Rivendell," Strider said. "We can make that one and a half if we keep going into the night."

Sam, from his place beside Frodo as he slept uneasily, found himself falling away from the conversation of strategy and diversion between Strider and the elf. He still had hold of Frodo's hand, that was cold and clammy, but he didn't move, and soon fell asleep right there, on the cold stones of Weathertop, with a heavy dread pulling him down.

0-o-0-o-0

Before the Sun had even begun to rise above the horizon they were moving. Frodo was awake, and able to walk with Sam sticking close to his side and his arm in a sling, but Aragorn knew it was only a matter of time before the wound began to overtake him.

He kept them moving at a pace far quicker than before, across the open moor as quickly as he could. Legolas scouted around them, moving on ahead and then doubling back, constantly on alert for any sign of the Riders approaching.

They'd startled them, last night. The Riders had not been expecting an elf, or Aragorn himself. He doubted they'd been expecting the surprising resilience of hobbits, something he was only beginning to understand himself. And four of them were missing, with not even Legolas able to tell where they were. In all likelihood, Gandalf was involved.

It was not that comforting a thought, to think that the Riders had merely been startled. Aragorn knew that if they caught up to them once again, it would not fall out the same way. Legolas knew it too; in the brief moments they'd had together away from the hobbits, they tried to come up with strategies that would get all of them to Rivendell. So far, they didn't have much.

It was well into the night when Aragorn finally called a halt to their day's march. The hobbits were almost asleep on their feet, and Frodo had been put onto Bill's back by lunchtime, Legolas and Aragorn splitting the supplies between them to carry as best they could.

Sam helped Frodo down off Bill. The hobbit was hunched in on himself, shivering slightly, and Aragorn relented. "Light a fire," he said softly. "A small one. Do what you can to get him warm."

By the time the fire was lit, and Sam had wrapped extra blankets around Frodo and was getting him to eat something, Legolas appeared out of the shadows. "No sign of them," he murmured to Aragorn. "But they're only regrouping. They'll come for us."

Aragorn grimaced. "I know," he muttered. "Believe me, I know."

Legolas glanced over at the hobbits, falling asleep around the tiny fire. He sighed, and then sat down gracefully on the ground, settling his knife in his lap and running a fingertip down the blade. "We're not all going to get there, Estel," he said softly. "We've got to work out the strategy for when they attack."

"We run," Aragorn said wryly. "As fast as we can."

Legolas levelled him with a look. "You do realise that isn't even a plan?" he asked. "I don't know what you Dunedain get up to, but in Mirkwood, we come up with strategies to try and make sure we all end up alive at the end of it." Aragorn rolled his eyes, but sat down opposite Legolas.

"How do you want to play it?" he asked.

"The most important thing is to get you and Frodo to Imladris," Legolas said. "I take it that we can't win this accursed struggle without the halfling, and we can't do it without you, either."

"We could," Aragorn said quickly. "It doesn't have to be me that people rally around. Someone is always there to step into that space." He huffed a laugh. "I'm not the protagonist of this story, Legolas."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "It's far too obvious that Lord Elrond is your father, sometimes," he muttered. "But we're getting off track. We need strategies, Estel. How to get you and Frodo to Imladris no matter the cost."

Aragorn paused, and then his face set as he realised what Legolas was thinking. "Absolutely not," he ground out between gritted teeth. "That is not a plan."

"I doubt I could get all of them to turn aside from their goal," Legolas said calmly. "But I'm a good enough prize to distract some of them. The Woodland Realm has been a thorn in his side for too long for him to turn away from capturing me. No matter what happens, I can keep a few of them from you one way or another."

"This is not happening," Aragorn snapped. "You're not expendable, Legolas!"

The hobbits flinched at his sudden shout. Aragorn winced, and ran his hand through his hair. "You're not expendable," he repeated, making an effort to lower his voice. "Don't you dare act like your life is thrown away so easily."

"Compared to you, I am," Legolas replied evenly. "Estel, I've never particularly wanted to die. But if it means you and the halfling will get to Imladris, if it means we have a chance of _winning_ , then I'll take it."

"Don't you get it?" Aragorn snapped. "They won't kill you. Haven't you forgotten who you are? They'll work it out quickly enough, and then they'll torture you until you give up all the information you know! I know you've seen it happen before, to others who you couldn't save." At that Legolas openly winced.

"What would that do to the Woodland Realm?" Aragorn asked. "What would that do to your home? You can't risk yourself like that!"

"Don't try and guilt me into not doing my job!" Legolas snapped back. "I'm a soldier, and you know perfectly well what that means to me." He shot Aragorn a glare. "Besides, if I am captured I don't plan on letting them get any information out of me."

Aragorn cursed under his breath. "What, you'll give them enough trouble until they kill you instead of torturing you for information? Not the best strategy you've ever had."

Legolas' glare just deepened. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything. Finally, Legolas got to his feet. "I'm going to check the area again," he said. "An hour, no more."

"Be safe," Aragorn said, but Legolas didn't reply and slid silently into the shadows. Aragorn sighed, and watched the shadows around them until the curious gazes of the hobbits grew too much.

"What?" he asked, looking over at Pippin.

"Has Legolas left?" Pippin asked. Aragorn blinked, and then realised that to an outside, that argument might have looked a lot worse.

"No, he's just scouting the area," he said, trying to soften his voice a little. "He'll be back in an hour. He wouldn't leave."

"That sounded like quite the argument," Merry said, sounding unconvinced.

"We've known each other for a very long time," Aragorn said. "By our standards, that wasn't much of an argument at all." He shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position. "It's an old topic, between us, though we haven't been in such a dire situation before."

"What did you mean, when you said they'd torture him if they caught him?" Sam suddenly asked in a small voice. "When he said he's a good enough prize for them?"

Aragorn sighed. "Legolas thinks it would be a good idea to use himself as a distraction to the Riders, if it comes down to it," he said. "I think it's a terrible idea, because it will get him killed, but then his sense of self-preservation has always been a little off."

"Legolas," Frodo suddenly murmured. The rest of the hobbits started, not realising he was awake. Aragorn, of course, had known as soon as Frodo had woken from his doze, but had said nothing, in the hopes that he would fall back to sleep and get some rest.

"I know that name," Frodo said, his voice barely a whisper. Sam immediately turned to him, checking on the blankets wrapped tight around his trembling frame. Aragorn could see the Morgul blade beginning to take hold.

"You probably heard it from Bilbo," he offered.

"Bilbo and Legolas know each other?" Merry asked. "Wait, you know Bilbo?"

"I met Bilbo about twenty years ago, in Rivendell," Aragorn said with a slight smile. "But Legolas met him outside Erebor, nearly eighty years ago now. He's seen Bilbo a few times since then, when he's come to Rivendell and was there, but they don't know each other that well. Not as well as I know him, or my brothers."

"You have brothers?" Pippin asked, pouncing on the information with interest. "How many?"

"Two," Aragorn answered, huffing a brief laugh. "Elladan and Elrohir. They're my foster brothers, and the sons of Lord Elrond. They've known Legolas for centuries; the three of them all have a penchant for getting into trouble, so I suppose it was only natural that they became such close friends."

He sighed softly. Unfortunately, he knew Legolas to be right. If the Nine got to Frodo, then the war would be over before it had really begun. And as much as he didn't like to admit it, he knew what people expected him to become, and what that could mean for the war. Frodo had to make it to Imladris, and so did he.

He fell silent, and the hobbits didn't ask anything more. Frodo had fallen back into an uneasy sleep by the time Legolas returned, falling out of the shadows effortlessly. He moved around the perimeter, checking on the hobbits before coming to sit down opposite Aragorn.

"I'm not going to say that I was wrong," he said slowly. "Because I don't think I am. But I understand why you were angry with me."

Aragorn blew out a breath. "I'm not angry," he said. Legolas arched a brow, and he huffed a laugh. "You look like your father when you do that," he said. "But you know I get frustrated when you talk about throwing your life away like that."

"I wouldn't be throwing my life away," Legolas said softly. "Not for you. Not if there's a chance that we could win this war, however small." He sighed slightly. "Sometimes, I forget that you're not a soldier," he murmured. "At least, not a soldier as I have been trained to be."

"Sometimes, I forget how much of a soldier you are," Aragorn said in reply, a smile curling his lips. "Which reminds me: have you been taking lessons from your father's spies again? You're much better in the shadows than you were when last I saw you."

"A few," Legolas replied with an answering smile. "And I spent most of July and August in the southern woods, so I've had plenty of practice recently."

Their argument was not solved; it was not one that could ever really be solved, but they both left it for now. There were more important things to consider, and Aragorn knew, even if he didn't want to admit it, that he could never force Legolas to go against what he thought was right.

"I'm looking forwards to being back home," Aragorn murmured. "It's been too long since I've been there for any length of time."

"It was quiet, when I was there before I left to find you," Legolas commented. "But I only stayed for a few days. Elrond is worried."

Aragorn snorted. "He's always worried. But I'll admit that things are, at the moment, bad enough to make most of us worry." He glanced over at the hobbits. "I think they're only just starting to realise what they've actually gotten into."

"We've all been there once, Estel," Legolas murmured. "We've all picked up a blade for the first time. It's been a long time since either of us was that innocent. Let them have it, whilst they still can. It's precious enough in these times."

Aragorn levelled Legolas with a look. "You've been spending too much time in the southern parts of your forest," he said. "That was morbid, even for your people."

Legolas just grimaced. "I just have a bad feeling about this," he said. Aragorn shifted, his hand going towards his sword, and Legolas shook his head. "They're not close enough for me to feel it," he said. "Though they're close. I meant this whole situation. Everything that's beginning to build."

Aragorn just looked at him. "You're asking me a question without actually asking anything," he said. "You know I hate it when you do that."

Legolas quirked a smile. "For someone who grew up amongst elves, you do get irritated by us more often than not," he replied.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "What's the question?" he asked. "I know it's on your mind."

Legolas sighed, and his hand went almost unconsciously to the hilt of his knife. He glanced up at Aragorn. "This is it, isn't it?" he asked.

"In what way?" Aragorn asked cautiously, glancing over at the hobbits.

"Don't worry, I really don't want to know what the halfling is carrying," Legolas said. "That's far too compromising. But whatever it is, this is it, right? These are the beginnings of the final moves before all out war. We're here at last."

Aragorn held his gaze, and slowly nodded. "We are," he said. "This is it."

Legolas grimaced, and then nodded. "I thought so," he murmured. He heaved a sigh. "I don't know whether to be terrified or relieved."

"Save it for Imladris," Aragorn said, the corners of his lips curling. "Once we're safe there, we can think about what's to come next."

Legolas smiled softly. "Get some sleep," he said, rising silently to his feet. "I'll take the first watch." Aragorn just nodded, and curled up on the ground, wrapping his cloak around him. The last thing he saw before letting his eyes drift shut was the vague silhouette of Legolas against the faint light from the stars above.

 _I'm not quite sure how many chapters are left of this, but there's a fair few! I've also got a oneshot just about finished that I'm lining up to publish after this, and some other things I'm attempting to work on in my spare time, so I'm not going anywhere!_

 _As always, reviews are very welcome!_


	7. Chapter 7

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Seven**

 _I'm so close to freedom I can almost taste it! Just one more week of exams to go and then I'll have finished my first year at university (which is honestly quite a scary thought). Exams have gone okay so far, but I've got the hardest two left to do. Hopefully I'll be fine!_

 _It's a bit of a short chapter this time, because it was this or a 6k chapter (and as much as I know you all would like that, the shorter the chapters, the longer I can keep publishing!). It's all building up to the big moment now._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

The next day, Frodo could only manage to walk for a few hours before he stumbled and fell. Sam caught him just in time, propping him up as best he could until Aragorn reached them and hoisted Frodo up onto Bill. Legolas stuck close to them for the day, not moving far away from the small group as they finally reached the thickly wooded areas around the valley.

"Anything?" Aragorn murmured to Legolas as they stopped briefly to allow the hobbits to catch their breath. Legolas shook his head.

"They're close, but I don't know where," he said. "We just need to keep moving."

But the hobbits were getting tired, and stumbling over their own feet as they walked. Frodo was barely conscious from the looks of it, and Sam stuck close to Bill's side. Aragorn gritted his teeth. They were moving too slowly.

"We just need to make it across the ford," he murmured to Legolas. "Once across, the Nine won't be able to reach us. We just need to get that far."

They trudged on through the day, the shadows lengthening around them until darkness fell, and still they kept walking. Aragorn kept them going for as long as he could, Legolas constantly scouting around them in the darkness, senses strained for any sign of the Nine approaching.

Finally, well into the night, Aragorn called them to a stop. Legolas reached up and gently pulled Frodo off of Bill, settling him down on the ground with a wince. "The wound's getting worse, Estel," he said over his shoulder. "I can feel it now."

Aragorn sighed. "Let me have a look," he said, crouching down beside Frodo, who was feverish and barely conscious. Legolas moved out of the way, gesturing for Merry and Pippin to follow him.

"How far are we to Rivendell?" Pippin asked, his voice merely a murmur as he watched Frodo and Aragorn, Sam sitting close by.

"Maybe a day until we reach the ford," Legolas said. "Once we cross the ford, we'll be safe from the Nine. Then it's just a matter of getting Frodo to the house in time. With any luck, they'll know we're coming and will have sent someone out to meet us. Estel's brothers might come for us, if they've gotten back yet."

"Why do you call him that?" Merry asked suddenly. "Strider, I mean. You never call him by his name."

"Strider isn't his name either," Legolas pointed out. "And Aragorn may be the name he was born to, but Estel is the name that he grew up with in Rivendell."

"Strider said you know Bilbo," Pippin said, voice just teetering on the edge of the question until it tipped right over. "Is that true?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen Bilbo," Legolas replied. "But yes, we met outside Erebor. And I've seen him in Rivendell a few times, when I've visited. Estel knows him better than I do."

"You're at least ten times older than me, and yet we've probably spent around the same amount of time in Rivendell," Aragorn said over his shoulder as he finished bandaging up Frodo's shoulder. "And over the past twenty years, you've barely been on this side of the mountains. So I've actually been around Bilbo a lot more than you."

"Why haven't you been over this side of the mountains much?" Pippin asked, apparently eager to get as much information as he could about the strange elf accompanying them, whilst he still could.

Legolas shrugged. "My home is the Woodland Realm," he said. "And I have a job to do there. It doesn't leave much time for visiting old friends. The world has become a lot more dangerous in the past few decades."

"Hang on, isn't that Mirkwood?" Pippin asked. "The same Mirkwood Bilbo travelled through?"

Legolas winced. "Technically, yes," he said. "The Woodland Realm is my realm. Mirkwood is the whole forest, including the southern woods. Those haven't been our realm for a long time." He caught the curious looks on the hobbits' faces, and sighed. "We were driven north long before I was born, when Dol Guldur was occupied. We ceded the southern half of the forest when that happened."

"How come we've never heard anything about this?" Merry asked. Legolas arched a brow, and tried not to laugh.

"Because it happened over a thousand years ago?" he offered. "Besides, we're an isolated people. News of us doesn't reach many others, and we like to keep it that way."

"Paranoid," Aragorn muttered in Sindarin, and Legolas shot him a glare.

"I hear enough of it from Mithrandir whenever we meet," he said. "I don't need it from you as well. Back off."

Aragorn arched a brow, but didn't say anything. He turned back to Frodo. "That's the best I can do," he said, more to Sam who was hovering nearby. "We just need to get to Rivendell now."

0-o-0-o-0

Aragorn was startled out of a dreamless sleep by a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes to see a shadowy figure crouched over him.

"Estel," Legolas hissed. "Get up."

Aragorn froze as his mind jumped to conclusions, and then scrambled to his feet. "They're coming?"

"They're close," Legolas said, his eyes wide. "We need to go now if we have any hope of outrunning them."

Aragorn gathered up his gear, buckling on his sword belt. "Wake the hobbits," he said to Legolas. "Let's move."

Legolas nodded and moved silently to where the hobbits were sleeping, shaking them awake. "Up," he said, pulling all of them but Frodo to their feet as they blinked blearily at him. "Time to move."

Aragorn finished throwing the rest of the gear on Bill. He hauled Frodo up and got him onto Bill, steadying the hobbit as he swayed dangerously on Bill's back. "Get out of here," he said over his shoulder to Legolas. "I'll see you on the road to the ford at dusk."

"I'll try to keep them off your tail as best I can," Legolas said. He paused, and then suddenly pulled Aragorn into a tight embrace. "Be careful."

Aragorn returned the embrace for the few moments that they had to spare. "Good hunting," he replied, and Legolas nodded. He turned and ran off, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

"They're coming."

Aragorn turned around to see Sam standing firmly by Bill's side, his expression a mixture of fear and determination. Aragorn wondered if yet again he'd underestimated the hobbits when, at his nod, Sam just squared his shoulders and looked grim.

"Let's move," Aragorn said, turning towards the track. "We can make the ford by tonight if we hurry."

He dared not push the pace as fast as he could go on his own; he was sure Gandalf would never forgive him if he let any of the hobbits die. But he strode forwards through the night, leading them on hidden paths into lands long forgotten by everyone but the elves. The hobbits scrambled to keep up, Sam not moving from Frodo's side as the hobbit swayed on Bill's back, almost lost to the living world.

Aragorn wondered whether Legolas could sense what was taking hold of Frodo. He knew he had a keen enough sense of the Nine, though it was muddled and confused somewhat with the strange and cold land that they were crossing. Frodo had been stabbed with a Morgul blade; Aragorn knew what that meant. He wondered whether Legolas would be able to track them down with that sense alone.

Legolas had tried to explain to him, once, the attachment to the world that Silvan and Sindarin elves in particular felt keenly. Despite having grown up amongst elves, Aragorn had no idea what he meant. Legolas had described Dol Guldur and the darkness in the south as an absence, a gap in the song, but how he could track an absence, Aragorn didn't know.

They only stopped once the sun was high in the sky, taking a few minutes to rest and eat what supplies they had left. Frodo was alarmingly pale, swaying listlessly in the saddle, and Aragorn left it to the rest of the hobbits to try and get some water down his throat.

Legolas didn't appear, and they started out on their desperate road again. It was anticlimactic, in a way; all they did was keep walking, as fast as the hobbits could go, heading straight for Rivendell. There were no desperate fights yet, and it made no sense to try and run the miles when it would just end with the hobbits exhausted and vulnerable.

"Keep moving," Aragorn said over his shoulder. "We don't have much time."

Pippin sighed, but didn't say anything. One glance at their faces, and Aragorn knew they were as worried as he was, even if he was far better at hiding it. Sam was still at Bill's side, one hand resting on Frodo's leg as they walked. Aragorn doubted Frodo was going to make it much further. The wound was not healing, and he swayed where he sat on Bill's back, trembling like a leaf caught in too strong a wind to hold onto the branch with fleeting strength.

Darkness was falling after a long day with no sign of the Nine, and the track was becoming recognisable towards the ford. Aragorn pushed forwards, hoping beyond hope that they could stay ahead for the next few hours, just long enough to get through the ford. Once they were through, they would be safe.

There was a slight rustling in the trees to one side, and Aragorn slowed, hand going to his sword. He unsheathed it, pushing the hobbits behind him and ready to slap Bill across the rump and send him galloping for Rivendell, if he needed to.

A lithe figure slipped from the trees, and Aragorn relaxed slightly, lowering his sword. He started as Legolas threw back his hood, hurrying forwards to his friend.

"What happened to you?" he asked, eyes running over Legolas. The elf had a long gash down his cheek, still bleeding sluggishly, and his cloak was ripped and muddied. Legolas winced as Aragorn grasped his arm, shaking it free.

"It's nothing," he said. "Estel, you need to run. They're only half an hour behind you. I tried to slow them as I could, tried to bring down their horses, but it didn't work. You need to run or you're never going to make it."

Aragorn cursed. "The track splits up ahead," he said. "Can you set up any sort of trap, try and get them to take the greater track whilst we take the lower one and give us some time?" he asked.

Legolas glanced up the track as far as he could, brow furrowed. "Give me the horse and I can," he said. "Get to the split in the track. I'll double back, clear up your tracks, and then meet you there." Aragorn paused, and Legolas pushed him down the path. "Go!"

He hurried forwards with the hobbits, as fast as he could, as Legolas melted back into the shadows of the trees. It took another fifteen minutes before they reached the split in the track, the lower path barely visible behind the undergrowth. Legolas was waiting there as Aragorn pulled Frodo down from Bill's back. Frodo swayed on unsteady feet, and Aragorn pulled him over one shoulder.

"I'll meet you at the ford," Legolas said, pulling Bill away. "Their sense of whatever they're sensing is not that accurate. I can fool them into taking this path, and then having to double back to find you. I'll try and set traps to bring their horses down, but I can't guarantee anything. Beyond that…"

"That will have to be enough," Aragorn said. "Go, and quickly. I'll see you at the ford."

Legolas nodded, and with a whistle to Bill to follow him, disappeared down the greater track. Aragorn shepherded the hobbits down towards the more hidden path, taking care to remove any trace of them leaving the path. He darted forwards and let a few footprints next to the hoofprints left by Bill; Legolas had passed without any prints left behind.

"That's the best I can do with the time I have," Aragorn said to Sam as he joined them on the path. "Quickly, we have to move."

They all but ran down the path, the hobbits sturdy on their feet as the stones skittered and rolled beneath them. Aragorn nearly slipped many times, Frodo nearly a dead weight over his shoulder, but he kept going. The shadows lengthened around them as twilight gave way to night, but Aragorn now knew these paths well, the closer they came to Rivendell, and he kept going.

They finally came out onto the larger path, and Aragorn hastened forwards. They were so close to the ford now, within riding distance. If they could just hold them off for a moment longer…

He paused, listening. At the edge of his hearing, he thought he could hear hoofbeats.

"Off the road, quickly," he said, ushering the hobbits into the undergrowth at the side.

"Is it them?" Sam asked, helping him set Frodo down and lean him against a tree. "Are they coming?"

Aragorn listened for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "It's just one horse," he said softly. "And I can hear… bells."

He crouched down lower, listening intently. The hobbits shrank back into the undergrowth as they too listened, waiting for the whisper of steel being drawn from scabbards.

It didn't come. Instead, the hobbits watched as Aragorn suddenly jumped out onto the road, words in another tongue tumbling from his lips. Pippin was the first to follow him, to see a great grey stallion halted on the road, bearing a tall, blond elf who seemed to glimmer in the darkness.

"Glorfindel!" Aragorn exclaimed, grabbing the horse's bridle as the elf dismounted. "This is a stroke of luck. We're being pursued-"

"By the Nine, I know," Glorfindel said. "I was sent out from Imladris to find you." He and Aragorn had a hasty conversation that Pippin was barely able to follow. In the back of his mind, he wondered why Glorfindel looked so different to Legolas. A small voice wondered where Legolas was, and if he had stopped the Nine from getting this far.

The next few minutes passed in a blur, like he was standing still and the world spinning around him, day after dusk after day. Pippin blinked, and they were standing on the road again, Aragorn all but carrying Frodo to stop him falling over; he blinked again, and Frodo was on the back of Glorfindel's horse, with Glorfindel doing something to the stirrups; a third time, and he found himself walking down the road. Glorfindel led his horse, Frodo swaying in the saddle. Aragorn had drifted back to the rear, and had drawn his sword.

"Estel," Glorfindel said, glancing back. "Legolas came to us three weeks ago. Has he-"

"He found me," Aragorn said. "He stayed further up the road to try and buy us some time."

Glorfindel looked troubled. "Then we should not waste any of it," he said. "Frodo, I want you to ride forwards on the road. Asfaloth will bear you over the ford. Just stay on him until he comes to a halt." He glanced back up the road. "Go, now! _Noro lim, Asfaloth_!"

 _Bit of a cliffhanger, but you all know, broadly, how this ends, and my readers who have stuck with me for a while know how much I like to stick to canon (even if this is an AU). Don't worry, Legolas will be back next chapter. As always, reviews are very welcome!_


	8. Chapter 8

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Eight**

 _I have officially finished my first year of university, which is both exciting and terrifying- it hasn't quite twigged that I'm doing a degree yet, let alone having finished a quarter of it. Three more years and, if everything goes right, I'll have a Masters in Chemistry. Aah!_

 _I'm home for the summer now, so hopefully I'm going to have a lot more time to write. I already have one oneshot finished for when this story is published, and I'm going to get back to the sequel stories for In a Field of Blood and Stone, We Can Make It If We Run. After that, I have another oneshot, an outsider PoV, that's being worked on, and another short oneshot being planned, and then the next long story (which might take a while, but is looking vaguely promising, I have about 10k of different scenes and bits written). If you want to know anything about them, or have an idea for something that you think I can work with, feel free to let me know._

 _There's only going to be about two more chapters after this, and then a very short epilogue, but I do have more stuff coming._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Asfaloth sprang forwards, and by the time a dismayed cry had slipped from Sam's lips, he was already at a gallop down the road. Glorfindel unsheathed his sword, the steel singing. They hurried down the road, Aragorn and Glorfindel dropping back behind the three hobbits, waiting for the moment that they would become overrun.

Asfaloth had disappeared around a bend in the road when Glorfindel skidded to a halt. "They're coming," he said breathlessly, unsheathing his sword and pushing Sam to the side of the road. Aragorn grabbed Merry and pulled him back, before lunging for Pippin.

"Get back!" he cried as the thundering of hooves reached their ears. "We can't stop them!"

But it was not a black horse that rounded the corner. Aragorn lunged for Sam, but the hobbit was surprisingly quick on his feet and darted around Aragorn's arm, catching Bill's trailing reins as he galloped down the road. "Easy, Bill!" he cried out, hauling Bill to a halt. The pony stood there trembling, sweat lathering his flanks.

"Get him off the road, quickly," Aragorn snapped. He exchanged a worried glance with Glorfindel over the hobbits heads as they pulled Bill into the ditch on the side of the road. "Legolas had him," he murmured, switching to Sindarin so that the hobbits couldn't understand. "Legolas was using him to lay a trap." He cursed under his breath. "He must have sent him running our way to give us some warning."

"Which means they are actually coming," Glorfindel said. "We can't do anything more to aid Frodo. Asfaloth will bear him over the ford, and the defences will rise." He glanced over at Aragorn, who nodded.

"They won't look at us," he said. "Not if we get off the road. Once they go past, we follow them down and light a fire. We can drive them into the river."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "Get down," he hissed at the hobbits, crouching down in the undergrowth at the side of the road. "Estel, get down!"

Aragorn ran over to them; he'd been watching the road behind them, waiting for either the Nine or Legolas to appear from the gloom. He crouched down beside Glorfindel, their breaths harsh against their ears.

There was a great thunder of hooves, and then all of them shrank back into the undergrowth as great black horses swept down the road. The hobbits shivered; even Aragorn had to shake off the sudden cold and dread that settled over him.

They blew past them like a storm, so intent on their prey that they didn't notice any of them, even Glorfindel. The horses were foaming at the mouth, lathered in sweat, and Aragorn thought he caught glimpses of red blood streaking them.

"Quickly, we must follow them!" Glorfindel hissed. They ran down the road, Sam tugging Bill after them. They could hear the shrieks of the Nine, could still feel the thundering of the hooves echoing through the earth as they ran.

A thin voice called out over the harsh breaths in their ears and the frantic beating of their own hearts, Frodo crying out against the might and power of the Nine. Suddenly they came around the corner and saw the great river snaking past them. Asfaloth stood on the other side, Frodo sitting tall on his back, Sting in his hand. Between him and them stood the Nine.

Sam could only stop and stare, barely noticing as Aragorn and Glorfindel darted off the road and built a fire. The Nine's horses snorted impatiently, toeing the edge of the river.

"Wait for it," Glorfindel murmured, suddenly appearing on the side of the road. "They can't pass the river. As soon as they step into the river, the floodwater will rise."

The Nine seemed to grow more and more impatient, until without warning they surged forwards, the horses champing at their bits as they leapt into the river towards Frodo. Aragorn seemed to hold his breath. Next to him, Glorfindel murmured something too soft to hear, a hasty prayer that the defences would hold. The hobbits watched, in stunned silence.

The lead Rider had nearly made it into the middle of the river, only yards away from where Asfaloth stood firm, when they first felt it. A rumbling beneath their feet, the awakening of ancient power as a roaring reached their ears. The river tore down from the hills above them, and Pippin clapped his hands to his ears as the Nine screamed in fear, horses spinning and surging forwards, powerful muscles bunching underneath them as they struggled for the shore.

Glorfindel leapt from the side of the road, blazing branch held aloft, and stood in their way. His movement jolted the others from their stupor; Aragorn grabbed a burning branch and followed him, and the hobbits stumbled out onto the road, Sam dragging Pippin from his frozen position in the undergrowth.

Glorfindel almost shone in front of them, standing his ground in front of the terrified horses and Nine as they tried to escape the pull of the water tearing around them. A few horses reached the bank and their riders threw them forwards, digging in their spurs until blood spurted from the horses' flanks. Glorfindel drew his sword.

There was a spark, a bright light that flew past Glorfindel and buried itself in the Rider's robes. Flames began to lick at the Rider, and the horse screamed in fear, rearing up and staggering back as another flaming arrow flew past Glorfindel and struck the ground in front of the horse.

Aragorn half turned, and a lithe figure stepped forwards from the shadows and the trees, a third arrow burning brightly and nocked to his bow. Legolas stepped up to Glorfindel's side, arrow unwavering as it followed the Nine. His fingers tightened, he breathed out, and his bow sung as the arrow sped forwards to bury itself in one of the horses, dancing on the edge of the torrent.

The horse reared, screaming, and the sound was accompanied by the unearthly shriek of the Rider as the river wrapped around the horse's legs and pulled it under, the Rider disappearing into the raging flood. Aragorn kept his branch high, but the Riders were scared more of Glorfindel, in all his rage, and Legolas' flaming arrows.

It seemed hours before all the Nine disappeared beneath the angry floods, their screams now merely echoes in the valley. Glorfindel sighed, and sheathed his sword. His flaming branch fell to the ground.

"They're not dead," he said. "But they're gone. We're safe now."

"How long until the waters go down?" Aragorn asked, stepping up to the very edge of the flood that still coursed down the riverbed.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Hours," he said, watching Frodo sway on Asfaloth's back, on the other side of the flood. He raised his voice and called out across the river, the Sindarin words flowing from his tongue. Asfaloth snorted, and then turned, slowly picking up speed until he was cantering away down the road. Aragorn watched until he disappeared from view.

"Asfaloth will bear him to Rivendell," Glorfindel said. "The patrols will find him soon, and then Frodo will be taken to Elrond. He's safe now."

Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to Legolas, who was standing watching the river, his bow still in his hand. "Excellent timing, as always," he said with a wry smile.

Legolas turned towards him and stepped away from the river. As he did so his legs suddenly buckled beneath him. He staggered, falling forwards, and though Aragorn lunged forwards as fast as he could, he was not fast enough to catch Legolas as he sprawled on the ground.

Glorfindel hurried over as Aragorn dropped to his knees, rolling Legolas carefully onto his back. He bit back a curse as he took in the state of his friend for the first time. "What have you done?" he muttered, trying to assess the various injuries and see which one was worst.

Glorfindel pulled at Legolas' quiver, quickly unbuckling it and throwing it to one side. "He's been caught with a sword on this side," he said, pulling open Legolas' jacket and pressing his hands to the wound. "The Riders must have done this when he tried to stop them."

"I should never have let him do that," Aragorn muttered, gently turning Legolas' head to one side, fingers ghosting over the cut running down his face. Legolas shifted slightly, brow scrunching in pain, and Aragorn rubbed his knuckles against Legolas' chest. "Legolas, can you hear me?" he asked. "Legolas?"

Legolas groaned, and then his eyes flickered open. He murmured something that to most people would have been unintelligible, but Aragorn had spent a long time deciphering the broken murmurs of an injured elf. He nodded. "Frodo is safe," he said softly. "The Nine have been destroyed." That wasn't quite true, but he didn't feel like taking the time to give Legolas the proper explanation, especially when he suspected the elf had a concussion and wouldn't understand much of it anyway.

Legolas nodded slightly. "Help me sit up," he muttered.

"You're bleeding from a gash in your side," Glorfindel said, his hands still pressing down on the wound. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"It's not that deep a wound," Legolas protested, already pushing his arms beneath him to sit up. "It just kept bleeding because I didn't have time to wrap it up." He reached up and grabbed Aragorn's shoulder, pulling himself up, and Aragorn put an arm behind his back as he wavered.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked as Glorfindel moved away to retrieve Aragorn's pack and the healing supplies there. "Did they-"

"I was hardly a fair exchange for the halfling," Legolas murmured with a wince. He pressed a hand to his head. "They did try, though, for a few moments. I was enough of a hindrance that they wanted to put me down."

"They nearly did," Glorfindel said as he came back, handing Aragorn his bag of healing supplies. "If that wound had been much deeper, I doubt you would have made it here. And then your father would have had my head."

"And mine," Aragorn added, pushing up Legolas' shirt to get a better look at the wound. "Where else are you hurt?"

"There's blood on his leg."

Aragorn looked up to see Pippin hovering nearby, Merry at his shoulder. Both their faces were pale and drawn, but Pippin looked determined, and didn't shy away when Glorfindel reached for Legolas' leg and his hand came away bloody.

Legolas gritted his teeth as Glorfindel took spare scraps of linen and pulled them tight around his leg. He swayed where he sat, face draining of the little blood in it, and Aragorn tightened his grip on him. "Don't pass out," he warned. "I don't want to have to carry you all the way to Imladris."

Legolas huffed a laugh out through his clenched jaw. "I might do it just to spite you then," he muttered, briefly squeezing his eyes shut as Glorfindel tightened the bandages. He spat out a curse. "The bandages don't need to be that tight!"

"You are a terrible judge of how badly you are hurt," Aragorn said, shifting so that he was propping Legolas up better as the elf swayed again. "You always have been. Shut up and let him work."

"Here," a small voice said, and Aragorn looked up to see Sam holding out a waterskin to him. The hobbit looked worried, continually glancing at the river and beyond as if he could still see Frodo riding away on Asfaloth. Aragorn took it, and pressed it into Legolas' hands.

"Don't worry, it's just water," he said as Legolas eyed it suspiciously. "I haven't had time to drug it yet." Legolas huffed a laugh, but it trailed off into a grimace as Glorfindel began to wrap up another of his wounds.

"Are you going to be all right?" Pippin asked, the hobbits gathering around Aragorn and the two elves. Legolas shrugged, even whilst wincing again as Glorfindel packed the wound in his side as best he could.

"This isn't anywhere as bad as the worst wounds I've had," he murmured. "But they're not easy to deal with, either." He grimaced, shifting and leaning more of his weight against Aragorn. "The Nine haven't helped." Aragorn nodded. He pulled off his cloak, wrapping it around his friend as best as he could.

"Cold?" he asked. Legolas nodded, fine tremors crawling briefly up his arms, and Aragorn tucked the cloak tighter around him.

"It's the blood loss," Glorfindel said from where he kept wrapping Legolas' wounds. "But you'll be fine once we get to Imladris. It's hardly the worst I've seen on you."

"You never saw us after we came back from the south," Legolas muttered. Aragorn shot him a confused look, but Legolas didn't see it. His speech was beginning to slur a little, and he listed more heavily against Aragorn as Glorfindel finished doing what he could, and sat back.

"Don't go to sleep, Legolas," Aragorn warned, shaking him slightly. "Keep talking." Legolas murmured something unintelligible, even for Aragorn, and slumped more heavily against Aragorn.

"No, Legolas, stay awake," Aragorn said. "Talk to me. Did the Nine know who you were, when you set your trap?"

Legolas grimaced, trying to sit up a little more. "I am the Prince of my realm," he said. His voice was soft, but unlike what Aragorn usually heard from him; there was a weight to his words that was rare. "I have the blood of Elu Thingol running through my veins. It is distant, but I can call upon it when I must. They knew who I was."

Aragorn snorted in amusement. "There's your stubborn elvish pride," he muttered. "I knew it would be useful at some point, other than to hide your injuries." Glorfindel huffed a soft laugh.

They stayed like that for a few minutes more, Aragorn trying to keep Legolas awake and talking as much as he could. The hobbits slowly gathered round, Pippin sitting down on the floor and watching the two elves curiously. Eventually Glorfindel got to his feet, wiping his bloody hands off on his cloak as much as he could.

"I'm going to walk downstream," he said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I can't feel them, but I'll check anyway, and see what I can find. I'll take an hour, nothing more."

Aragorn nodded. "Merry, come over here," he said. "Bring over a couple of the rolled up blankets as well."

"What's happening?" Pippin asked. He shifted closer to Aragorn and Legolas, who had his head pillowed on Aragorn's lap.

"Glorfindel has gone downstream, and I can't effectively be on guard if I have a half unconscious elf resting in my lap," Aragorn said. Legolas' lips quirked in a smile, and Aragorn huffed a laugh.

Merry hurried over with various blankets tucked under his arms and a worried look on his face. Aragorn gestured for him to kneel down next to him, and Legolas cracked open one eye. "Don't worry," he murmured. "I'm not going to break."

"I'm going to move out of the way," Aragorn said. "I need a blanket pillowed under his head, and another along his side. Legolas, don't do anything, just lie there." Legolas nodded slightly, already tensing up. Aragorn slid a hand under his head and neck, and gently lifted him up and slid out from underneath.

Legolas hissed, gritting his teeth as Merry quickly shoved a blanket beneath his head and Aragorn set him back down. "You're bleeding through your bandages again," he muttered, gently rolling him slightly onto his side to let Merry put another rolled up blanket under his side.

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut at the movement, his throat working. "Don't throw up," Aragorn warned. "You'll scare the hobbits."

Legolas just nodded, and eventually the tension managed to leave his body and he breathed out. Aragorn stood, wincing as the blood rushed back to his legs. "Keep an eye on him," he said to the hobbits. "Legolas, if you can stay awake, do. If not, please give me some warning first."

The hobbits seemed to take to the task and gathered around Legolas, sat on the floor around him. Pippin was the first to ask something and then they were off, peppering Legolas with questions that he could barely answer, in a tired voice that trailed off easily, before another question left somebody else's lips.

Aragorn watched them all out of the corner of his eye as he paced up and down the track. Legolas was probably hurting more than he was letting on, judging by the stillness with which he held himself, the careful movements before he spoke, but Aragorn had known him long enough to know when he was just in pain and being quiet about it because he's a stubborn idiot, and when he's quiet because he's about to die if he doesn't get to a healing ward. He was worried, but it was familiar, and he could put it to one side in the knowledge that once the river fell, they would be in Imladris.

Legolas only managed to hold onto consciousness for another fifteen or so minutes, and Aragorn felt helpless watching as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Rationally, he knew there was little danger; Legolas wasn't badly hurt, but he'd seen his friend lose consciousness, in far worse situations, too many times to not feel that familiar pang of worry as he went limp.

There was movement from the west and Aragorn turned, putting himself between the threat and the hobbits, gathered still around Legolas. He only lowered his sword when he saw Glorfindel picking his way up the bank of the river.

"There's a couple of horses down the river," he said as he reached them. "Dead, of course, but too far for me to get to right now to look further."

"The Nine?" Aragorn asked. Glorfindel merely shook his head.

"Insubstantial, but not destroyed. I don't know how much of a threat they can pose right now, but I'd much prefer it if we were on the other side of that river."

Aragorn nodded, well aware of how exposed they were in the middle of the road. "Can we cross now?" he asked. "The sooner I get Legolas to the house, the happier I'll be."

Glorfindel eyed the river. "I'll go across and set up a rope first," he said. "Otherwise the halflings will lose their footing. You'll be alright carrying him?"

Aragorn shrugged. "I'll have to be."

 _0-o-0-o-0_

 _As always, reviews are very welcome. I just wanted to say one last thing here, before I go._

 _Sometimes, I'm not very proud to be British. My country is one with a long and checkered history, and we haven't always been on the right side, or done the right thing. But right now, with the two terror attacks on Manchester and London recently, I am pretty damn proud of my country. People are worried, and nervous, but we are not being cowed by people who think they can try and divide us using these attacks. We are standing together. We are British, all of us, from the people who's families have lived in this country for hundreds of years to the immigrants who have just started their lives here. And no matter what they do, we will continue to be British._

 _Keep Calm and Carry On is in our blood, and that is what we will do._

 _There is a photo going viral at the moment, of a man running from the attack on London Bridge. He's carrying a pint, and making sure he doesn't spill it as he runs. It's pretty dark humour, how it's gone viral, but that's Britain for you. Keep calm and carry on, and laugh in the face of the cowards._


	9. Chapter 9

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Nine**

 _Sorry it's been a little while, things have suddenly gotten very busy and stressful with horses. But I'm happy to say now that I've found a new horse! He's called Jäger Bomb, which I feel is very appropriate for a uni student (for those who don't know, a Jägerbomb is an alcoholic drink, Jägermeister mixed with an energy drink, Red Bull- it's disgusting). There are a lot of vet checks and tests that have to be done before buying a horse to make sure they're healthy, so that was very stressful, but he passed them all and he's now back at the yard settling in! He won't ever replace Tom, but I think we can have some fun._

 _This is the second to last chapter- for those expecting a huge reveal about Legolas being Prince, sorry to disappoint (that's in the next chapter) but my thoughts are that Legolas doesn't say anything about being Prince for the whole of the LoTR books, so probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it. The reveal will happen, but isn't a huge thing of the next chapter._

 _The conversation between Legolas and Sam in this chapter was interesting to write, because of the huge differences in perspective and experience of life. I hope you enjoy it. As always, reviews are very welcome._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

They didn't reach the house by the time night fell. Legolas had regained consciousness shortly after Aragorn had carried him across the river, which Aragorn felt was typical of the elf. He was woozy and in pain, but staggered along with them without complaining. Eventually, when the stars were already high in the sky, Glorfindel called it a night, and led them to a small shelter hidden off the road.

The hobbits trooped wearily into the shelter, discarding their packs and slumping down together. The day was beginning to weigh on them, and Aragorn had seen Sam watching the road ahead of them almost obsessively, trying to catch a glimpse of the house and of Frodo.

Legolas winced as he stepped into the shelter and reached for the wall, bracing himself against it. His hand pressed into his side, and came away bloody.

"Legolas?" Merry asked tentatively. Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slightly. Sam could see his left leg, stained dark with dried blood, trembling under his weight.

"Sit down," Glorfindel said as he pushed inside, grasping Legolas' arm and steadying him. Legolas swallowed heavily, and then pushed away from the wall.

"I've got this," he murmured. "Just give me a minute."

Glorfindel nodded, and stepped back as Legolas sank to the floor as gracefully as he could. He understood well enough the need to stay standing until it was safe enough to collapse, the self-preservation drilled into any soldier that was so difficult to override. Legolas' home was dangerous at every turn, and Glorfindel knew that it had left him with a constant alertness that he couldn't ever completely ignore.

Sometimes he pitied the young elf for what his home had come to, and what it had made him into; he'd seen it far too many times in his long life. But most of the time he knew that pity was the wrong thing to feel.

Aragorn, having finished taking the rest of the supplies off Bill, stepped inside the shelter and headed straight for Legolas. "You're a stubborn fool," he said, crouching down beside him and checking his side.

"Tell me something I don't know," Legolas muttered with a tired grin. "Just wrap them up and I'll try to get some sleep." Aragorn grimaced, but nodded and began to pull supplies out of his bag.

"How's the leg holding up?" he asked as he pushed up Legolas' shirt and peeled away the bloody bandage. "You walked a fair way on that wound."

"I've had worse," Legolas said, wincing as Aragorn redid the bandage around his side. "Much worse."

"Somehow, that's not reassuring," Aragorn murmured. "I've seen your worse. I've seen it nearly kill you." He'd seen Legolas stagger home with a trail of blood behind him, collapsing a few feet from the doors of the stronghold because all of his soldiers had made it inside and he could finally let himself stop. Often, though, he'd arrived in Mirkwood without any idea of what had happened until he met a patrol and their faces dropped as soon as they saw him. By the time he reached the stronghold Legolas was usually awake, but confined to the healing wards with broken bones and deep bruises, or stitches still holding him together.

"It hasn't killed me yet," Legolas replied with a wry grin. "And you know I'm going to be fine."

"I know, I know," Aragorn muttered. "I am the healer here, thank you. I do know what I'm doing."

Legolas huffed a quiet laugh. "I hope so," he replied. He glanced over at where Glorfindel was sat at the entrance to the small shelter, tending to the fire. "Mind if I get some sleep?" he asked, already shuffling further down the wall and reaching for a bag to put under his head.

"I'll wake you in a few hours," Aragorn said, knowing that there was no way that Legolas would sleep through the entire night after the day they had been through. Only the hobbits might manage it; Aragorn, Glorfindel and Legolas had all been fighting for too long to be able to sleep peacefully outside of a place that they knew was safe.

Legolas nodded, eyes already sliding out of focus until they were half-lidded in his exhaustion, his breathing slowing and finally evening out as he fell into sleep. "He's gone," Aragorn said over his shoulder to Glorfindel.

"Are you actually going to wake him up in a few hours?" Glorfindel asked with a wry smile. Aragorn shook his head, and Glorfindel huffed a laugh. "It's your problem when he realises in the morning."

"He's lost too much blood to stay mad at me," Aragorn said with a grin. "I'm not too worried. Besides, he'll most likely wake himself up in the middle of the night anyway. And then I'll just lie and say I was going to wake him up in a few minutes."

"It's your neck," Glorfindel said, turning back to the fire. The kindling had caught, and he carefully stacked larger twigs on top of the small yellow flames, waiting until they caught before adding more. Eventually the fire was roaring, and the shelter finally grew warm enough for the hobbits to stop shivering where they were curled up and trying to get some sleep.

"Get some sleep, Estel," Glorfindel said over his shoulder. His knife was in his hand, and it was rasping against a branch of wood, slowly whittling away the bark. "I'll take first watch."

Aragorn felt like protesting, but the past few weeks were weighing heavy on his shoulders. He let himself slump against the wall of the shelter, pull a blanket over his lap, and fall asleep.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas jolted awake, confused for a moment about where he was before his side and leg flared with pain and he remembered the past few days. He slowly sat up, not bothering to hide a wince.

"I was just about to wake you up," said a quiet voice in the darkness, and Legolas turned to see Aragorn sat in the entrance to the shelter, silhouetted by the fire.

"Of course you were," Legolas replied, a wry grin curling his lips. He glanced up at the night sky, but it was clouded. "What time is it?"

"About two hours past midnight, I'd guess," Aragorn said. "Glorfindel went out to walk the roads around us, see if he can't find a patrol or any sign of Frodo and whether he reached the house."

Legolas nodded, and shifted closer to the fire, catching its warmth. "I won't go back to sleep for a few hours now," he said. "Get some rest, if you want."

"Are your wounds hurting?" Aragorn asked, already reaching for the bag that held his medical supplies. "I can give you something to sleep."

"They're not too bad, and I don't want anything to dull my senses," Legolas said quickly. "But now I'm awake I won't sleep again easily. I might as well take watch."

Aragorn thought about it for a long moment, and then shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Wake me if you need anything. If you do something stupid and start bleeding, I swear I will finish the job myself."

Legolas huffed a laugh. "I'll try not to," he said. "Pass the logs over so I don't have to move and then have you kill me when I make my wounds bleed again." Aragorn grinned, and shoved the pile over before moving past him and further into the shelter, grabbing a couple of blankets and curling up. Within moments his breathing evened out, and he fell into sleep.

Legolas didn't know how long he watched the fire for. At some point there was a rustling behind him, and he turned to see Sam sitting up, blearily rubbing his eyes.

"What time is it?" Sam whispered.

"A few hours to dawn still," Legolas said softly. He studied the hobbit for a moment. "Can't sleep?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm just worried," he said.

"Come sit by the fire," Legolas offered, shifting over slightly. "Take your mind off it for a little while." Sam hesitated, but shuffled over, dragging his blankets with him and wrapping them around him. He sat down near Legolas, glancing uncertainly at him. Legolas didn't pay him any attention, adding another log to the fire and trying to shift it to the right place without getting burnt.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

Legolas glanced over at Sam's quiet question. "I won't lie," he said eventually. "I don't know. Morgul wounds are serious. But Frodo held out far longer than any elf I've ever seen, and Elrond is the best healer there is in these lands. I'd say he has a good enough chance." As good as any of them of making it out of all of this alive, he thought to himself. It was very unlikely this was all over, but he didn't voice that.

"You'll like Imladris, I think," Legolas said softly, after a few minutes of silence watching the fire. "It's peaceful there. You can always find something to enjoy, whether it's song or dancing or poetry or just sitting there and thinking for a while. Personally, I'm quite looking forwards to a hot bath and some good food."

"There's good food there?" Sam asked. Legolas grinned, and nodded.

"The best," he said. "Outside of home food, of course. I'd give quite a bit to be back home eating in my halls, but the food in Imladris is excellent."

"I suppose it will be quite different from home," Sam murmured. Legolas' expression softened.

"For you it most likely will be," he said. "But you'll grow accustomed to it, and different is not always a bad thing. There's peace to be found, here." He shrugged. "I've been in Imladris so many times over the centuries that it is almost a second home to me. I know it very well."

"But you're a Woodland elf, aren't you?" Sam asked. "Why would you spend so much time here?" He suddenly seemed to realise what he had said, and stammered out "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Legolas smiled slightly. "I don't mind," he said. "I'm good friends with Elrond's sons, and I visit them every few years, when I can. I occasionally get sent here for diplomatic reasons as well, though that hasn't happened much for a few centuries."

"Centuries," Sam echoed. "You're…centuries years old?"

Legolas laughed softly. "More than that, but I'm young for my people," he said. "But then we are Elves, and age is a different thing to us."

Sam's eyes were wide. "What's it like to live forever?" he asked.

"What's it like to not?" Legolas asked back. "I can't answer your question, I'm afraid. I don't know any other life than this." He pushed another log onto the fire, briefly shutting his eyes against a coil of smoke that drifted towards them. "Besides, my answer to that is probably very different to any elf you ask in Imladris. We lead very different lives."

"How?" Sam asked. Legolas huffed a laugh.

"That is a very complicated question, but I'll give it a go," he replied. "I'm a Silvan elf, mostly, and we are very different to the Noldor or the Sindarin who make up most of the elves here. Imladris is also safe, and has been for as long as I can remember. I don't think the enemy has ever found this place. My home does not have that protection." Sam was still watching him curiously, and Legolas found himself wondering when the last time he'd seen such innocent curiosity was.

"I'm sure you've noticed my…area of expertise," Legolas said. "I'm a soldier. But I didn't really have much of a choice in becoming one, though I likely wouldn't want to be anything else. I was taught how to fight as soon as I was old enough to draw a bow, because of how dangerous Mirkwood can be. Bilbo must have told you the stories about his journey there."

"A little bit," Sam said. "He used to try and scare the littl'uns with his stories."

"I'm sure he did," Legolas said with a laugh, and then a wince as the movement pulled on the wound at his side. "But whatever he's told you, it's much worse. Mirkwood is a very dangerous place, Sam. And it's made everyone there into fairly dangerous people, myself included. My father doesn't like it much, but he doesn't really have a choice."

He took a breath, pressing his hand to his side over the bandages spotted with blood. "Are you alright?" Sam asked, inching closer with worry. "Do you need anything?"

Legolas shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as the muscles jumped in his jaw. After a few tense moments he breathed out, and cautiously relaxed. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Believe it or not, I've actually had a lot worse than this."

Sam looked, if anything, more worried than before. "I feel like such a fool," he said. "I didn't…I didn't think this was going to be so dangerous." His face fell. "I didn't think Frodo was going to get hurt. And when he was, I barely did anything to try and help, I was so useless."

"You were thrown back on Weathertop, and you got to your feet and charged one of the Nine," Legolas said. "I saw you. That is bravery, and all the more remarkable seeing as you've never used a blade before, never seen this type of life that Estel and I lead before."

Sam ducked his head. "I was acting on instinct," he muttered. "If I'd thought about it, I'm sure I would have turned around and run away."

Legolas smiled slightly. "But you did think about it," he said. "Picking up a blade and running towards danger is not ingrained into you. For me, it is easy, because I have been training and fighting for so long that it is almost instinct to run towards danger now. For you? You've never seen this danger before. You've never been in such peril before. And yet you picked up that blade and you ran forwards as soon as Frodo was in danger. That's loyalty, and that is a courage I haven't seen in a long time."

Sam shook his head. "You're a soldier, aren't you?" he asked. "You must see bravery all the time."

"It's different," Legolas said. "I've been trained for this life. All of the soldiers that fight beside me chose to become soldiers. It's one thing to run into danger knowing what could happen to you and having made your peace with it long ago. It's another thing completely to run into danger with no experience, no knowledge of what could be on the other side, but to run anyway because the person you're trying to reach is important enough."

Sam fell silent, and Legolas felt a brief nostalgic pang for the innocence that he and so many others had lost before they'd even realised they had it. "Try and get some more sleep," he said gently. "It'll be dawn in a few hours, and we'll get down to the house tomorrow, I think."

Sam nodded, and padded softly back to his blankets. Legolas' gaze had only returned to the fire for a few moments before another shape, softened in the darkness, stirred.

"That was nice of you," Aragorn murmured as he sat down next to the fire, blanket still pulled around his shoulders. Legolas glanced over.

"It was the truth," he replied. "Those halflings are much braver than I first thought. And it is a bravery I haven't seen for a long time."

Aragorn sighed, staring into the darkness. "Do you ever miss it?" he asked softly.

Legolas looked over at him. "Miss what?"

"That innocence," Aragorn said, with a slight shrug. "That wide-eyed look at the world. I was sheltered enough as a child here that I still remember thinking the world was a good place. Sometimes I miss that."

Legolas fell silent for a long moment. "I lived a privileged childhood," he said eventually. "I still do have a privileged life, of course. But I don't know if I was ever unaware of the danger outside our borders. In one way or another, I think I knew as soon as I was old enough to understand. My father isn't one to keep me in the shadows like that, even if he'd like to." He sighed. "I suppose I miss thinking I could actually change the world. I miss thinking that we could win."

Aragorn glanced behind him at the hobbits. "We might be able to change things now," he murmured. "With what Frodo is carrying. I don't think we've ever been as close to the end before. We might lose everything, but there's a chance, however small, that we might make it instead."

Legolas huffed a laugh, soft in the darkness. "I'll take that chance then," he said. "I don't think I'd ever do anything else."

 _Next chapter will most likely be up in about a week. I have another shorter story lined up for afterwards, and then I'm looking to finish off We Can Make It If We Run, or even just publish another couple of stories in that. As always, reviews are very welcome!_


	10. Chapter 10

**At the Sign of the Prancing Pony**

 **Chapter Ten**

 _So this is the final chapter! I am blown away and so thankful to all the wonderful people who took their time to read and review this story, it means the world to me, and especially to those who have stuck with me for so long- you know who you are and you're amazing. Hope you're all doing well._

 _I have another short story lined up for publishing after this, and then I hope to continue with We Can Make It If We Run and other stories I have in the works. I've been taking a little break from lotr fic at the moment, to clear my head, but I hope to get back to it soon. I promise, I'm not going anywhere._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome. I hope you enjoy._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Pippin had been focusing so much on simply putting one foot in front of the other, he didn't notice when everyone stopped until he walked into Merry's back. He looked up.

Warm light spilled from the doors and windows of the large house in front of them that reached up into the darkness above their heads. Tall figures were silhouetted against the light as they hurried down the steps towards them. Pippin stumbled, realising with not a little bit of shock that they'd finally arrived at Rivendell.

"I didn't think we'd ever actually make it here," he murmured, and Merry hummed in agreement. The courtyard seemed to warrant whispers, and they kept their voices low as they were ushered forwards towards the bright light and, finally, safety.

"Frodo," Sam murmured, hardly daring to ask in case it was bad news. But the elf in front of them smiled and nodded. Sam almost staggered with relief, and Merry and Pippin joined him as their steps suddenly quickened, eager to see Frodo now that they knew he was safe.

Strider brushed past them, one of Legolas' arms slung over his shoulder and bearing what looked like most of the elf's weight. "Please tell me the healing wards are ready," he said wearily. "I'd like to make sure this elf doesn't die on me from a Morgul wound or something equally stupid he's neglected to tell me about."

Legolas muttered something in reply, but Pippin was pretty sure it was in some type of Elvish. Strider huffed, and turned briefly to them.

"You're safe here," he said to the three of them, his expression briefly softening. "This valley is sheltered from evil. You can rest now."

"Do not worry about the future now," a grave voice said from ahead, and they turned to see a tall stern-faced elf step forwards, a silver circlet set in dark hair glinting in the torchlight along the walls. "Rest, and ease your worry over your friend. The future can wait, for a few days."

"I am Lord Elrond," he continued. "And this is my house. Mithrandir can tell you everything you would like to know."

"Mithrandir?" Merry asked.

Elrond smiled slightly. "The name that he bears with you is Gandalf," he said, and the hobbits felt like they could collapse under the second wave of sheer relief upon hearing his name.

"I'll take you to him," Glorfindel said, stepping forwards. He spoke briefly to Elrond, before gesturing to the hobbits to follow him. Pippin glanced back as they did so, watching Strider adjust his grip on Legolas to stop the blond elf falling.

"Go on, Pippin," Strider said, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. "We'll be fine. Go and see Frodo."

Elrond watched as the hobbits hurried away, following Glorfindel further into the house. "They are surprisingly resilient," he murmured. "Frodo bore that wound for a long time without succumbing, and those three are no less steadfast than him."

Aragorn nodded. "Frodo is certainly Bilbo's nephew," he said. "But enough of that. The healing wards are ready, aren't they?"

Elrond nodded, gently tilting Legolas' chin up with one hand. "Lord Elrond," Legolas murmured. "I wish this was under slightly better circumstances."

"It is always like that, I suppose," Elrond said. "One day you must stop so readily offering pieces of yourself up to the enemy."

Legolas shrugged, as best he could when he was half leant against Aragorn, one arm slung over his shoulders. "It's my job," he said. "Besides, I'll always do it readily enough for my family and for yours, and for anyone who needs protecting."

"A soldier through and through," Aragorn muttered. "Come on, these discussions of duty and everything we always end up arguing about can wait until later. I'd quite like to get you somewhere with actual healing supplies and a bed."

"I won't say no to a bed," Legolas said with as much of a grin as he had energy to muster. "Lead the way."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Lead the way," he muttered, shaking his head. "As if you could lead the way. You'll fall over if you take a step without me here supporting you." Legolas shifted, and he tightened his grip on the elf. "That was not a challenge for you to try!" he said, beginning to walk down the corridor slowly, Legolas limping beside him. "Is everything a bet to you?"

"When you say it, of course it is," Legolas replied. "Speaking of, you owe me a rematch for last time."

"You're not going within ten feet of a weapon until you've healed, or I swear I will hobble you," Aragorn said.

Elrond felt a smile tug at his lips, where he walked on Legolas' other side. "It is good to see you again," he said to Aragorn. "It is always good to have you back, Estel."

Aragorn glanced over at him, and for a brief moment he looked like the young man Elrond remembered sending on his way, so full of hope and fight. "It's good to be back," he said. "I've missed home."

0-o-0-o-0

After weeks of constant movement and running, of watching over their shoulders for black shapes coming at them out of the shadows, it felt strange to sit around and do nothing. Sam spent hours sitting at Frodo's bedside, waiting for him to wake up, but hour after hour nothing changed.

It had been days now. Elrond had finally removed the last piece of the Morgul blade from Frodo's shoulder in the night, and Frodo was sleeping peacefully enough. Yet still Sam couldn't help but worry.

"Come on, come and get some breakfast with us." Merry gently grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him up from his chair. "Elrond said he won't wake until this afternoon at the very earliest, and I'm sure Frodo won't want to wake to find you looking like you do right now."

Sam sighed, and let Merry tug him away. Pippin sat down in the chair with a decisive nod, watching Frodo, and that made Sam feel slightly better. He followed Merry through the hallways towards the hall they'd eaten in the past few days.

Even in his tired and worried state, he couldn't help but be nearly overcome by awe of the house around him. Rivendell was everything he'd imagined it would be. He didn't know how else to describe it.

Tapestries stretched down the walls, bathed in the early morning light, and as Sam walked past knights rode out across verdant fields, banners raised high against the approaching hordes. A maiden stood in front of a dark lord and defied him for the brightness in his crown that did not belong to him. Great beasts leapt out of the darkness and greater men and women strode forwards to meet them, shining steel raised high. Defiance and life repeated in a thousand different ways, old and faded but still there.

The sun was spilling through the high windows in the hall when they arrived, long beams slanting across tables laden with food and drink. There were already elves and others besides present in the hall, and light chatter filled the air.

As they had done every day since arriving, Merry and Sam skirted around the edge of the hall towards an empty table, sticking close to the wall. There were a few curious glances, but it seemed like the newest curiosity of Rivendell had already worn thin for the people already here.

Gandalf was nowhere to be seen, which wasn't exactly unexpected. Sam had spent many hours curled up in a chair or on the floor whilst Gandalf and Elrond discussed high and mighty things over his head, and now that Frodo was healed and merely sleeping, Gandalf and Elrond had disappeared together, probably to talk about more high and mighty things some more, without the distraction of the hobbits.

Those were Pippin's thoughts, and Sam thought he was being a bit unfair, but still Gandalf wasn't anywhere to be seen in the hall. Merry pushed him onto a bench and sat down next to him, pulling over a basket full of fresh bread.

"Eat," he said, nudging Sam with his elbow. "You need it." He eyed a plate of bacon appreciatively, and then gave into temptation and pulled it over, spearing a few pieces with his fork to put onto Sam's plate. "At least they know how to do a proper breakfast here."

"It's not quite the same," Sam said, but he still picked up a piece of bacon and reached for the bread. "Still good, but not quite the same."

"Sure, but nothing ever beats a homecooked meal," Merry said easily. "Have you tried this fruit? I've no idea what it is, but it's delicious."

Sam eyed it apprehensively, but let Merry push some onto his plate. He stabbed a piece with a fork and lifted it up. "It doesn't look right," he said. "Not natural, anyway."

"It's called a lychee, and it's delicious."

Sam and Merry both jumped as Legolas slid onto the bench opposite them. He looked much better than the last time they'd seen him, staggering inside with Aragorn's arm looking like the only thing holding him up. Legolas picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of what was apparently lychee. "It grows here, when they can get it to," he said, taking a bite. "My home's too far north for it to grow properly, but the valley here is sheltered enough."

Sam took a tentative bite of the fruit, and after a moment his eyes widened in surprise. "It's good," he said. "A bit odd, but good."

Legolas nodded, and reached for a bread roll. "I heard Frodo is doing better," he said. "He'll wake up soon, won't he?"

"This evening, Lord Elrond thinks," Merry said. "I don't think Lord Elrond is wrong much."

Legolas laughed. "No, he's not, but then he's Elrond. He's probably forgotten more than pretty much anyone else could ever know." He paused. "Except Mithrandir, but then that applies to a lot of situations." He huffed a laugh, and tore apart the bread roll in his hands to slather butter on it.

It was all Sam could do not to stare. Gone was the silent soldier that he had seen the past week, the elf that had seemed so deadly. Legolas looked young, almost, surrounded by Rivendell's light. "You seem in a good mood, if you don't mind me saying," he ventured cautiously.

Legolas shrugged. "It's a nice day," he replied. "Elrond made me take something for the pain, and nobody has tried to kill me in the past few days."

There was an amused huff, and then Strider appeared out of nowhere to sit down next to Legolas on the long bench. "You set the bar very low, _mellon-nin_ ," Strider said with a grin.

Legolas laughed. "I like to give myself an easy goal," he replied. "Have you seen Mithrandir at all? I want to ask him something on behalf of my father. He's been worrying over some of the southern defences, and I thought I'd ask Mithrandir's advice. Without my father knowing, of course."

"Trust Thranduil to not want to ask anyone for help," Aragorn said with a snort. "It's almost impressive how deep his stubbornness runs, if it wasn't so annoying sometimes."

Legolas laughed. "You're talking to the person who always gets pushed into the room when he's being so stubborn he can't see the actual facts. I'm well aware of how annoying it is; I'm the one who has to convince him otherwise most of the time."

"Wait…" Merry said slowly. "Your father is…Thranduil?"

"Thranduil?" Sam asked. "As in, the Elvenking?"

Legolas nodded, taking another bite of the bread in his hands, and Aragorn stifled a grin at Merry and Sam's shocked expressions.

"You're a prince?" Sam blurted out. He clapped his hands over his mouth almost as soon as he said it, a blush slowly spreading across his face. "Sorry…milord."

Legolas waved a hand. "Please, just call me Legolas," he said. "Nobody who knows me ever uses my titles. It's not important." Aragorn huffed a laugh, and Legolas shot a glare at him. Sam watched rather incredulously as Aragorn grinned, and snatched a piece of some other fruit that he didn't recognise from his plate.

Legolas arched a brow. "Give it back," he said. "You know that's my favourite."

Aragorn laughed, and popped the piece in his mouth. "Too late." He yelped as Legolas cuffed him around the head, and shoved an elbow into Legolas' side in retaliation. Legolas winced, hand going to his side, and Aragorn rolled his eyes.

"I know for a fact that the wound is on your other side," he said. "I helped my father stitch it up literally two days ago. You don't fool me."

Legolas laughed. "It was worth a try," he said with a grin. "That's reminded me though, I need to speak with him about Mirkwood's defences as well. Wherever he is, Mithrandir is probably with him as well."

"I'll help you find them," Aragorn said, getting to his feet. "I've got nothing better to do."

Legolas laughed again, and got to his feet with a slight wince. "I hope that Frodo wakes up soon," he said to the hobbits. "I'm sure I will see you all soon." Aragorn nodded in agreement, and then the two of them walked off, Aragorn slinging an arm around Legolas' shoulders and tugging him close.

Sam watched until they disappeared through the doorway. "I wonder what they were like," he mused softly.

"When?" Merry asked, his mouth full of toast. Sam shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I don't know," he muttered. "But they seem so different here than when we were journeying. Do you think that's what they were like, well, before they started it all?"

Merry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe? Why does it matter?"

"I don't know," Sam muttered, even though he did. He didn't really know what was going to happen now, and a small part of him whispered that they weren't finished yet, and they couldn't just return to the Shire, forgetting everything they now knew. He supposed it was comforting, in a way, to see someone who had fought for so long still be able to laugh.

0-o-0-o-0

A few days later, Legolas watches as Frodo stands up and quietly announces that he will shoulder the fate of them all, do what he suspects nobody else will be able to do. It might be foolish, it might be suicidal, but it's the best chance that they have and he's willing to take it.

Aragorn catches Legolas' eye, and raises an eyebrow. It's barely a gesture, but to Legolas, who has watched Aragorn grow up and become the leader Aragorn is so uncertain he can be, it's a question, and a complicated one. For him, though, the answer is easy.

He nods slightly, and Aragorn looks relieved. Legolas knows what he is asking; this is a suicide mission, after all, which means that following Frodo is most likely going to lead to his death. But he thinks it might not be so bad. He's been prepared to die in service of his country for a while now, and he thinks this isn't going to be so different.

Sam jumps out from where he had been hiding, surprising everyone except for Gandalf and Frodo as he declares Frodo won't be going anywhere without him. Legolas finds a smile slowly curling his lips.

It's a very different kind of bravery, he thinks. But it gives him hope nevertheless.

 _finis_


End file.
